My Strongest Weakness
by PsychicWonderKitty
Summary: Anyone who knew Dean Winchester could see that his one vulnerability was Sam. Anyone who knew better could see Sam was so much more than that. When an evil from Dean's past returns to threaten his brother, both sides of this same coin will be revealed.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I most definitely and unfortunately do not own _Supernatural_ or those wonderful Winchesters; it is all the property of Eric Kripke and his merry band of geniuses. If anything, _Supernatural_ owns me!

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**My Strongest Weakness**

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SUMMARY: _Anyone who knew Dean Winchester could see his one vulnerability was Sam. Anyone who knew better could see Sam was so much more than that. When an evil from Dean's past returns to threaten his brother, both sides of this same coin will be revealed._

**Chapter 1**

_---Late March 1994, Northeast Montana---_

"Stay low, Dean," John Winchester ordered his eldest son as they crept through a patch of shrubs toward a pair of abandoned houses. "The last thing we wanna do is let these things know we're coming."

"Yes, sir," the boy quietly but deftly responded. Dean Winchester had turned fifteen about a month ago, but he knew better than to question his father's orders when it came to a hunt. He knew it could mean the difference between life and death…he and his father weren't ordinary hunters. _Nothing_, in fact, had been ordinary for the Winchesters since the night Dean's mother had been murdered by a demon, bursting into flame on the ceiling above his six-month-old brother's crib. Dean had been four at the time; his innocence had been shattered. Now, he and his father fought to protect the innocence of others. They hunted the supernatural.

The latest big game was a group of familiars, but not just the average lot. Unlike the ordinary familiars that were animal servants of witches, those in this clan were humanoid, supposedly having had their beginning under a powerful ancient coven that had been ruled over by Hecate, the Greek goddess of sorcery, darkness, and witchcraft. Having started out with scant abilities, the familiars had been able to hone and expand them over the centuries, ultimately allowing the beings to evolve from birds and mammals into human form, gaining them their own impressive array of spells and supernatural powers along the way – spells and powers that even rivaled those of their former masters, whom they were no longer bound to. From the ancient lands, the beings had expanded their territory and had managed to stay unnoticed in their human guises for a considerable amount of time, but once they had been discovered by hunters of old, many had been killed. The ones that had been able to escape were quick to bring about the next generation, but by the time the twentieth century had arrived, the humanoid familiars had nearly been driven to extinction. The Winchester patriarch and his eldest son now sought to remove 'nearly' from the equation.

"Hey, Dad…you see that?" Dean asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at the house. "I think somethin's goin' on around back."

John looked for himself and was able to make out what had drawn his son's attention – a faint orange glow and wisps of black smoke coming from behind the houses. "Good. If they're focused on the fun they're having with their little bonfire, we can take them by surprise."

"You…you don't think it's a victim they're burning, do you?" came the wary response.

"No, son," John assured. "Remember, they only take their sacrifices on the night of the Vernal Equinox, every ten years…no sooner, no later. And this decade's sacrifice has…already been taken." John shuddered as he thought about how they had been too late to save the latest victim, an eight year-old girl who had had her whole life ahead of her, as all victims of the humanoid familiars did. Their choice of sacrifice was the primary reason he wanted to destroy the remaining familiars so badly – they only sacrificed children who were ten and under, drinking their young blood to hinder the process of aging. The thought would strike a nerve in any adult with a heart, but for John, it struck to the core. His other son, Sam, was ten years old. The thought of his sweet baby boy being consumed by those damn creatures sickened him to no end, and it spurred him on to make sure that thought never became a reality. Naturally, he hadn't dared bring Sam on this hunt, or anywhere even close to it. His youngest was safe, two states away in Blue Earth, Minnesota, under the care of a good and trusted friend of John's – Pastor Jim Murphy. John turned to his eldest son, noticing his footsteps had slowed. "Dean…? You okay, kiddo?"

Dean nodded mutedly, plagued with horrific thoughts of his own. He had heard and read the gruesome details of the state the girl was found in, seen the innocent, smiling face in the newspaper – a face that would never smile again. Twinkling, ocean-blue eyes, long blonde hair that fell to her shoulders in tight ringlets, a bright smile…until, before his eyes, the picture had morphed into that of a barely older boy. Green and flecks of light brown had joined the blue in the eyes, which had somehow gotten a little bigger. The hair had turned much darker, into chestnut-brown, and the ringlets had slackened into the loose waves of a shaggy mop. The smile was the same, except that this one brought out dimples. And Dean had thrown the newspaper down after that, because the victim had become his baby brother. His Sammy. Of course his fears had been playing tricks on him, but there had been good reason. The three Winchesters, through eerie coincidence, had been dangerously close to the area that the girl had disappeared from, and had dumb luck not been with them, the victim easily could have been Sam instead of the girl. _Well, maybe _not _so easily since Dad and I would've killed the freaks before they laid a finger on Sammy… _Still, the possibility had been enough to put the familiars at the top of Dean Winchester's hit list, right underneath that damn Shtriga who had escaped after nearly sucking the life out of Sam when he was six, and the Yellow-Eyed Demon who had ruined all their lives in the first place. "I'm fine, Dad," Dean said more confidently. "Or at least I will be as soon as we nail all of those bastards."

"That's Daddy's little soldier!" John smiled, waiting for the inevitable reprimand.

"Dad! _Puh-leeze, _I'm freakin' fifteen! Sammy's the little one!"

"Fine then…that's Daddy's _big _soldier!"

"Real funny, old man…" Dean spat back before quickly adding a 'sir' to the end. He was about to speak again when his father held up a silencing hand. "What?" he whispered. "You see 'em?"

"Yeah…yeah, I can see 'em…there's four of 'em, two males and two females." John replied quietly.

"You got the spear?"

John looked down at the sharp wooden weapon he held in his hand. "Yeah, I got it." And John knew just how privileged he was to have it. The specially crafted spear was the only thing that could kill the humanoid familiars, carved from top to bottom with the ancient Greek symbol that represented Helios – an eye with a halo over top of it. As Helios was the god of sunlight and Hecate was the goddess of darkness, the two clashed with each other and therefore the familiars that had once served under Hecate's coven were vulnerable to Helios' symbol – burned by it, in fact. But as the familiars' numbers dwindled, so did the spears', until there were only two left known to the hunting world. And the eldest Winchester was holding one of them now thanks to Caleb Reaves, a fellow hunter and friend who had trusted the rare weapon to John among the many others he had provided for the older hunter. While it was true that John had wondered at the time why Caleb didn't want to keep the spear, he had graciously accepted it nonetheless…and now he was definitely ready to make good use of it. "Let's go, Dean…you stay back, though. You cover me just in case our little method of protection doesn't work."

"Yes, sir."

Both men crept toward the unsuspecting familiars, staying low to the ground and hidden behind the bushes and small trees that lined the edge of the property. John motioned for Dean to stop moving, a smile lighting his face as he took in the clear shot he had at one of the males who had strayed from the other three. The male appeared to be more advanced in age than the others – any average person would simply see him as a man in his late forties. But John Winchester was a hunter, and he knew the creature was a lot older than that thanks to its ritual consumption of children's blood. _Time for _you_ to bleed instead, you son of a bitch… _John took careful aim, and then launched the weapon.

A scream pierced the night as the creature's stomach sizzled and melted, the spear impaling it. The familiar collapsed dead to the ground within seconds, and a second scream pierced the night as a female familiar rushed to see what had happened to her companion.

"HARLETON!" The female froze when she saw the spear sticking out of the male's stomach. But before she could call out a warning over the roar of the fire, a white-hot pain shot through her chest as the eldest hunter jerked the spear out of Harleton and plunged it in and out of her heart in one fluid motion.

John, spear in hand, quickly leapt back behind the bushes. _Her _dying scream had definitely not gone unheard.

"IVUNA! HARLETON!" The remaining male and female ran to their comrades' aid and balked at the sight. Their friends were dead. _Dead. _"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!" the male roared.

The female knelt to take a closer look at the bodies, even though she already knew the answer. "How do you _think_, Pribram?! Someone has one of those accursed spears! DAMN IT, FIND THEM!"

"LOOK NO FURTHER, BITCH!" John shouted, bursting out of the bushes and ramming the spear into an unsuspecting Pribram.

"NOOO! PRIBRAM!" the female wailed as her mate slumped lifeless to the ground. Stifling her grief quickly, she crouched to run a gentle hand over his face, shutting his unseeing eyes before standing up and turning a furious glare on John. "YOU killed him and you will PAY!"

Before John knew what was happening, he was flung several feet away by an invisible force and lay helplessly pinned to the ground as the wrathful female approached him. Even so, he looked into her icy blue eyes with no fear. "Sorry 'bout your friends, bitch." He smirked as a feral snarl escaped from the female's lips, and he knew that if he hadn't been marked with the protective symbol of Helios weeks before, he'd be a dead man in mere seconds. But even more important than the symbol, he had Dean…who was stealthily approaching the creature from behind.

The last familiar standing heard the telltale rustling of grass just a second too late. As she spun around, blinding pain shot through her side and she shrieked into the night before turning to face her attacker…a kid. A damn teenager! She lashed out and grabbed his arm with every intention to break it, but as soon as his skin met hers, an excruciating burning feeling flared through her hand and caused her to recoil. She stood, hunched over in pain, and stared into the teenager's eyes with contempt, letting out one last hiss before she finally fell to the ground and went still.

Just like that, it was over. "Nice job, Dean-o, let's chalk that one up as a Winchester win," John said, standing up and clapping his son heartily on the back. "Whaddya say we go get the salt 'n gasoline and toast these bastards?"

"Sounds good to me, Dad," Dean replied with a grin.

They walked in comfortable silence back to the edge of the property to retrieve the necessary items, gathered the four bodies into a pile, and started the blaze. "Let's get back to Sammy," John said as they left the scene behind.

"That _definitely _sounds good to me, Dad," Dean smiled. "Don't go tellin' the squirt, but I've kinda been missin' my kid brother a bit, ya know?"

"I know, Dean-o," John chuckled. "And my lips are sealed."

As the two Winchester men walked away, laughing and celebrating an easy victory, they would've noticed that one of the four bodies was suffering no effect whatsoever from the fire, hearing all that they said, vowing revenge…had they bothered to look back.

TBC…

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A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfic and I'm so excited to finally have it posted! It is an already completed work, so I plan to put only a two-day wait in between each chapter to give people time to read and review, provided nothing comes up that would make the wait longer. Thank you so much for reading, and comments are always appreciated. A special thanks to my LLS (long-lost sister), a.k.a. **psiChic**, for the quick beta. Be sure to check out her stories as well. Till next chapter, friends:-)


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I still don't own _Supernatural_ one little bit. If I did own it, it would've been _me_ playing the part of Madison in the brilliant episode _Heart_! Uh huh, figure the reasons out for yourselves…it's not rocket science. ;-) 

SPOILERS: Um, pretty much every episode up through _Hollywood Babylon_ is fair game. The action in this story takes place after that episode, but before _Folsom Prison Blues_.

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**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _As the two Winchester men walked away, laughing and celebrating an easy victory, they would've noticed that one of the four bodies was suffering no effect whatsoever from the fire, hearing all that they said, vowing revenge…had they bothered to look back._

**Chapter 2**

_---Present day, Southern Tennessee---_

"You're awfully quiet," Sam Winchester stated, stretching his lanky six-foot-four frame as much as he could manage in the confines of his older brother's 1967 Chevy Impala. "No music or anything…you okay, man?"

"Fine, Sammy," Dean answered. "Just goin' over my game plan, that's all."

The twenty-three year-old sighed wearily; he knew his brother much better than that. "You're not still blaming yourself, are you?" he asked softly, turning his gaze on the man in question.

Dean glanced sideways at Sam and instantly regretted it. _Damn! Shoulda known he'd be lookin' at me with those puppy eyes… _He scrubbed a hand over his face and hit the top of the steering wheel in frustration. "Drop it, Sam."

"Don't think I can, Dean."

"Sammy…"

"_Dean_…"

"Fine!" Dean relented. "Yeah, I'm blaming myself just a little over here, I mean, it's freakin' Dijon vu or whatever ya call it."

"Déjà vu?" Sam corrected, fighting back a grin.

"Yeah…yeah that's it. Had a case like that thirteen years ago…got there too late to save the kid," Dean said somberly. "Just like this time."

"Look, man…" Sam began cautiously, "I hate that we couldn't save this kid, I mean, five years old…" He paused to rake a hand through his long chestnut locks and regain his composure before continuing. "But it isn't your fault, Dean…I know you feel like it is…I know how you feel…but it's not."

Dean thought about what his brother had said. He knew that Sam knew how he felt; hell, the kid probably knew the feeling better than Dean himself. Things had plummeted downhill for both boys ever since their father had passed away and revealed those cryptic last words to his eldest. Words that Dean had later revealed to his younger brother – that if he couldn't save Sam, he'd have to kill him. Neither brother knew what that implied, but Dean was content with the knowledge that he'd save Sam no matter what. Sam, however, took the blow hard, and after he had become even more emotionally unstable from the disappearance of Ava Wilson, a fellow young psychic he had befriended, Dean's little brother finally went off the edge on a haunted hotel job in Connecticut and hadn't stopped falling 'til he'd hit the bottom mere weeks ago in San Francisco…having to kill the young woman he'd been falling in love with in order to save her from her werewolf curse. Heartbreak on top of the heartbreak he had already endured almost two years prior when he'd lost his girlfriend, Jessica, to the same demon that had killed Mary Winchester. If anyone knew the pain of not being able to save everyone, it was definitely Sam.

"Dean?"

"Yeah…okay," Dean finally gave in. "But Sam?" he gently addressed, waiting until his brother acknowledged him before finishing. "Nothing's been your fault, either."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, turning to look out the window and remaining silent. He would let Dean think that he believed him for now. The silence remained for a couple more minutes before Sam broke it with an important reminder. "Besides, Dean…we killed that ghoul that killed the child."

"Yeah," Dean said with a slight smile. "We did."

"So how about we concentrate on this job now…deal?"

"Deal." The truth was, this was a job that Dean was looking forward to because of its simplicity. While hunting the ghoul a couple of weeks ago, they had stumbled upon another case, a routine haunted house. And like so many haunted houses, this one had been a popular dare spot for local teenagers…until two had turned up dead in it four days ago. _Freakin' kids never learn… _Both brothers suspected it was due to the angry and already dark spirit of one James Atchison, a Depression-era thief and murderer who had died of 'God's justice' – or a heart attack, in layman's terms – in his home. The house had been inactive until the late seventies, when its owners' child thought it would be fun to try contacting Atchison's spirit, which of course, was a success. The family had moved out immediately, barely escaping with their lives, and the house had sat abandoned since then. Or at least, 'abandoned' to the skeptics, anyway. After a minimal amount of research, Sam had discovered where Atchison's grave was located and now the boys were headed to do a salt and burn job. 'Easy peasy,' Dean thought happily to himself.

After about ten minutes more of driving in companionable silence, the Impala pulled up alongside the desired cemetery. "Ready?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Born ready, dude," Dean said with his trademark cockiness.

After a quick stop at the trunk to gather the necessary equipment – guns, salt, gasoline, matches, a crowbar, and a shovel – the brothers headed into the cemetery to find Atchison's grave.

From the shadows, someone watched their every move.

_It's him… _Of course the watcher had seen the one man before – _and my, how nicely he has grown up – _there was no way it could ever forget Dean Winchester. But it was immensely curious about the taller man that accompanied him…now _he _was a mystery. It couldn't see him that well as the moon had gone behind the clouds, but it was fairly sure that it didn't recognize him. Seemed that this mystery required a little more investigation... Soundlessly, the watcher followed the young men until they stopped at a grave. As soon as they had, it safely concealed itself and tuned its ears in as well as its eyes.

"All right, so who's diggin' and who's lightin' the way?" Dean asked, shining his flashlight at Sam.

The watcher's eyes widened and it licked its lips appreciatively. Whoever the mystery man was, he certainly had a pretty face. 'What a delectable duo…' it thought devilishly as it continued its observations.

"Agh!" Sam groaned, squinting his eyes. "Do you mind, Dean…kinda got a little bit of a headache over here."

Dean instantly lowered the flashlight and narrowed his eyes in confusion. His brother had been fine in the car… Then it hit him. _Oh man, not now… _"Sammy? This isn't, uh…_that_ kind of headache, is it?" he asked, referring to the sudden splitting pains that always plagued Sam whenever he got a psychic vision.

"No, man," Sam replied. "For once I think it's just a…normal headache. Doesn't feel like a vision."

The watcher had become breathless. _Sammy? _That's _little Sammy, the younger brother?! _It was amazed…my, how _that _boy had grown. _Literally_. As the moon revealed itself again, it finally had a clear view of the youngest Winchester, running its eyes with gusto up and down his lean, muscular body. _Gorgeous…certainly a child no more…_ Obviously both boys had inherited their parents' best genes. 'And they had plenty, I'm sure,' it thought, remembering the rugged handsomeness of John Winchester.

"Well…guess that settles who's diggin'," Dean remarked, grabbing the shovel.

"Wha…? Dean, I can still dig. You did the digging back in that Hollywood cemetery, give yourself a break, man," Sam said sincerely.

"Nah, I'm good, Sammy…grave digging probably isn't too good for a headache. 'Sides, I need to work off that Whopper I ate for lunch…can't risk an ounce of flab on this perfect physique," Dean quipped. "Here," he threw Sam the rock salt shotgun. "Shoot first, ask questions never."

Sam conceded and cued Dean that he was ready. He stood back as the dirt started flying from the grave, Dean making quick work of the packed earth. The watcher continued to observe the scene, a wide grin lighting its face as it felt the surrounding atmosphere change. _Now_ it was about to see some action.

Sam had just heard shovel meet wood and Dean's triumphant declaration of 'Yahtzee' when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. _Shit… _"Dean!" he yelled as he scanned the area around him, "Don't know for sure but I think our ghost may be getting ready to defend his corpse…be careful!"

"Just be ready for him, Sammy!" Dean shouted back as he worked to pry the lid of the coffin open. "And you be careful too!"

"I will!" Sam responded, and then turned around to find himself face-to-face with the ghost of James Atchison. Without a word, Sam raised the shotgun and fired straight into the apparition's chest. It dissipated with an angry screech.

"SAMMY?!" Dean shouted worriedly. "You okay, bro?!"

"Not for much longer if we don't toast this ghost, Dean!" Sam yelled, firing another round into Atchison's spirit as it appeared again. "He makes quick recoveries!"

"Shit!" Dean jerked harder on the crowbar and was finally rewarded with the lid snapping off. He quickly hoisted himself up out of the grave and retrieved the salt, gasoline, and matches. "Everything cool?" he asked, glancing at his younger brother.

"Yeah," Sam said, briefly returning the glance for a second. It was one second too many.

Sam gasped in surprise as a forceful tug on the back of his jacket sent him flying several feet backwards, knocking the gun out of his hands.

"SAM!" Dean fought the overwhelming instinct to rush to his brother's side as Atchison rapidly approached the younger man's prone form; instead he increased his pace tenfold as he frantically worked with the salt and gasoline. Trying to shut out the thumps and muffled cries of what he was sure was Sam being thrown around behind him, Dean unceremoniously dumped the salt and gasoline at the same time onto Atchison's corpse, throwing the containers aside as soon as he was done and quickly getting out a match. Just as he was about to strike it, he looked up and froze at the sight he saw. "SON OF A BITCH!"

Atchison's spirit was hovering about ten feet above the lip of his own grave…with Sam firmly in its grasp.

"Drop that match…and I drop your brother," the spirit's disembodied voice growled threateningly. "I drop him right into the fire of your own making…"

Sam's long legs kicked and flailed as he squirmed in the spirit's arms, giving his captor – not to mention the watcher – quite a show. To Dean, he gave a nod and a wink.

Dean discreetly winked back. "Okay, okay…don't hurt him! Look," he showed Atchison the match, "I'm puttin' it back in my pocket, all right?"

"STEP AWAY!" the ghost shouted. "Only when you are distanced from my body will I let your brother go!"

"FINE!" Dean took several large steps backwards, being careful to block Atchison's view of the rock salt gun that lay on the ground. When he finally reached the weapon, he smoothly scooted it backwards along with him using the backs of his feet, not stopping his movements until he finally got Atchison's approval to do so. "Great. Now put him down…SAFELY!"

"Throw the match away from you."

Dean complied, and then was forced to listen to yet another round of threats from the ghost.

"You will leave this place immediately, both of you. Look back even once, and I will kill you..." He shook Sam to make a sharper point. "Starting with this young one!" His parting warning now satisfactorily given, Atchison slowly lowered himself and Sam to the ground in front of the open grave.

Sam's tall frame had his feet hitting the soil several seconds before Atchison's feet, causing the youngest Winchester to block the spirit's view of Dean once they were both standing. Dean didn't waste a second. In a flash, he had picked up the rock salt gun and found his aim. "SAM, DROP!"

The watcher looked on in fascination as the brothers moved like a well-oiled machine – the older firing directly into his target and the younger hitting the deck just in time. The spirit howled in pain as the rock salt entered its body, dispersing it instantly. The second it had vanished, the younger shot back to his feet and caught the box of matches that the older had thrown to him, lighting one quickly.

"To hell with you, bastard." With a satisfied smile, Sam dropped the lit match onto Atchison's corpse and the cemetery was suddenly bathed in an orange glow as the fire consumed what was left of the murderer. Sighing exhaustedly, Sam sank to a sitting position on the ground, not surprised when mere seconds later he felt his brother's hands on his shoulders.

"Sammy? You all right?" Dean asked as he knelt down beside the younger man.

"Yeah," Sam breathed out. "Just remind me never to visually acknowledge you again when there's a ghost on the loose."

Dean grinned; Sam was fine. "Good advice," he agreed, patting Sam on the back. "Let's get outta here, geek boy." He halted mid-rise when Sam groaned in pain. "Sammy?" He knelt back down. "You sure you're all right…you're not hurt?" A show of dimples was the response to his concerned inquiry.

"I'm good, man…no blood loss, no broken bones…just an increasing headache." He gave another smile of thanks to his brother as he was helped to his feet. It was another job well done for the Winchester boys…and another corpse well done, too, so to speak.

As the brothers set to cleaning up their mess, the unseen pair of eyes finally turned from them as their owner left its hiding spot, having seen enough…and ecstatic about what it had seen. After too many long years of thinking that no such thing existed, it had finally discovered what it had been desperately searching for – Dean Winchester's weakness. And soon enough, it would use that newfound knowledge to bring its formidable foe mercilessly – and _permanently_ – to his knees. "Let the games begin, hunter…" it smirked evilly. "Winner take all."

TBC…

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A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed Chapter 1 and/or added this story to his or her Favorites/Alerts list! I was so excited to see that the first chapter of this story was that much to your liking, and I hope the rest of it will be as well. Again, comments are always appreciated and the usual thanks to my LLS (psiChic) for the beta. Next chapter should be up sometime Wednesday, 'til then, take care folks! THREE MORE DAYS 'til Season 3:-D


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Nope, nothing's changed. Still don't own _Supernatural_ in any way, shape, or form…unless we're counting the DVDs, books, and other random paraphernalia? No? Okay, then…fine.

SPOILERS: None for this chapter, but throughout the story, only the episodes following _Hollywood Babylon_ are safe.

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**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _After too many long years of thinking that no such thing existed, it had finally discovered what it had been desperately searching for – Dean Winchester's weakness. And, soon enough, it would use that newfound knowledge to bring its formidable foe mercilessly – and _permanently_ – to his knees. "Let the games begin, hunter…" it smirked evilly. "Winner take all."_

**Chapter 3**

Dean sighed as he looked over to his brother, whose head was leaned against the window, face contorted in pain. The once minor headache had steadily escalated into a migraine, complete with nausea and sensitivity to bright lights, which was the only explanation for why Sam had sunglasses on at 10:00 at night. It was also the only explanation for why Dean was _again_ driving without music in fear that any additional noise would further aggravate Sam's throbbing head. He had given Sam a couple of Advil but planned to stop at the first pharmacy he saw to pick up some actual migraine medicine instead of just general headache stuff. Unfortunately, in the small town they were driving through, he wasn't seeing one…but he did see a sign for a motel.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean tapped his brother lightly on the shoulder.

"Mmmmph?"

_I'll take that as a 'what?'… _"There's a motel coming up here soon, I can either just go ahead and stop or go on and see if we can run across a pharmacy where I can get you some migraine pills…it's up to you," Dean said softly.

"Mmttl, lll flll btttr."

"Say what?" Dean questioned seriously. "I really didn't catch that."

Sam turned his head around slowly and met Dean's confused green eyes. "Motel, I'll feel better." He then turned his head back to the window.

"Ah, got ya," Dean nodded with a smirk. "Motel it is."

Five minutes later, the Impala pulled into the small parking lot of the Herl Inn. "You gotta be freakin' kidding me!" Dean blurted as he stared at the motel sign in disbelief. "Did they even _think_ before they named this place?!" Dean didn't hear Sam's groan as he ranted on. "I mean, I don't care if that_ is_ the owner's last name, first off, I'd _change_ my last name if I were them, and second off…I just wouldn't be namin' my motel the freakin' 'Herl Inn'!" He silenced himself as Sam put a hand on his arm and squeezed warningly.

"Dude, if we don't check into this place ASAP, I'm gonna 'hurl in' your _car_!"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Ohhhh no, no you're not!" he said as he fumbled for the door handle. Once out, he ran around to Sam's side, flung open the passenger door, and caught the younger man as he tumbled out. "C'mon, migraine boy, there's some nice comfy chairs over here that you can sit in while I go get us a room. _Chairs FAR away from my car… _He led an unsteady Sam over to one and sat him down gently in it, patting him on the shoulder. "Be right back."

"'Kay."

Upon entering the motel 'lobby', which was actually more of a small office, Dean was immediately greeted by the stench of stale food. Fighting back the urge to hurl in the Herl Inn, he moved forward to the front desk and stared down at the pudgy man behind it who lay asleep in the chair, snoring loudly, a slice of half-eaten pizza resting on top of his potbelly. "Uh…sir?" Dean said lightly. The man didn't move. "Sir?" he said a little louder, growing rapidly impatient as he thought of Sam being unwell and forced to wait outside in a hard chair until they could get a room key. Dean had no time for the jerk in front of him. He smirked mischievously as he spied the bell sitting on the desk. _This'll teach him to fall asleep on the job… _"HEY, YOU!" Dean screamed and then repeatedly slammed down on the bell, biting back satisfied laughter when the slob of a man almost fell out of his seat in surprise.

"What the…who're you?" Pudgy asked, looking at Dean in confusion.

"Why, naught but one of your esteemed customers, of course, my good man," Dean smiled smugly and then shot the man a glare. "Or didja forget you're running a motel, here?"

"Oh…uh, right. Sorry, need a room?"

"Don't think I'd be here if I didn't," Dean replied, borrowing Sam's patented eye roll.

"Right…yeah, we got some vacancies, I'll have ya checked in in no time flat."

'Yeah', Dean thought dryly as he nodded at the man. 'Make sure you don't strain yourself.'

After what was decidedly more than 'no time flat', Dean finally escaped the lobby and the irritating lump of lard behind the desk, room key in hand. After getting their bags out of the trunk, he found Sam sitting in exactly the same position he had left him in, except a little more slumped over. "Up we go, Sammy, got a room waitin' for us," Dean said cheerily, assisting his brother to a standing position.

"S'it a nice room?" Sam mumbled dazedly.

_Not if the condition of the lobby and the guy in it are any indication… _Dean decided to keep it positive. "I'm sure it will be. Anything'll be nicer than bein' cramped up in the car, right?"

Sam stopped walking and narrowed his hazel eyes at Dean before they widened in shock. "Did you…did you just insult your Impala?"

"What? NO! Would never even think of such a thing," Dean answered indignantly as they walked around the back to where their room was located.

"Sounded like it to me…"

"Well, you've got a migraine, Sammy…your sense of hearing is compromised right now." Sam responded by cuffing him lightly on the back of the head. 'Unlike your attitude,' Dean thought amusedly as he put the key in the door to Room 36.

The instant the brothers had stepped inside, Sam had crossed the distance between the threshold and the first bed in two long strides, flopping down face-first on the mattress that noisily sagged under his weight. Dean walked over to him and shook him gently. "Nuh-uh, Sammy, you know the rules…oldest gets first choice of beds and I like the one by the door the best."

Sam mumbled angrily and incoherently before slowly forcing himself up and stumbling to the other bed, gracelessly flopping onto it as well.

"That's my boy," Dean approved softly with a pat on the back. Truth was, the only reason Dean had a preference for the bed closest to the door was so that he would be between Sam and any danger that might suddenly decide to walk through it. _Yep, big brother protectiveness knows no bounds…_ He removed Sam's shoes – even though the kid's feet pretty much hung off the edge of the bed – and gently lifted him up just enough to put another pillow underneath his head, which Sam promptly buried his arms under.

"Thhhkks," Sam muffled out.

"No problem, kiddo," Dean smiled. "I'll leave the lights off for ya…this is no Motel 6, after all."

After determining that Sam was all right, he sunk down on his own bed and retrieved the television remote from the nightstand, resisting the urge to launch the small object at the wall when all that came up on the screen was static and snow. "Great, no TV reception," he growled under his breath. Now restless, Dean got up and turned on the bathroom light, wanting to get at least some semblance of just how crappy their latest dwelling place was. 'Pretty crappy,' he decided quickly. The walls were painted a not-so-lovely shade that fell somewhere between cream and puke yellow – which seemed appropriate enough for a place called the Herl Inn, he surmised. The bedspreads were a pumpkin orange hue, and the dingy carpeting was an off-white that had obviously seen too many dirty feet and not enough Rug Doctors. A small table with a glass ashtray sitting on it was in the room's corner to the left of the door and in front of the window, which was covered with a thin, ratty curtain that matched the bedspreads. The air conditioner seemed to be having some difficulty putting out, but thankfully it was only spring and not summer. All in all, definitely not great, but definitely not the worst place they'd ever stayed. Dean returned to his bed, leaving the bathroom light on since it didn't seem to be bothering Sam.

"Dnnnn."

Or so he thought…"Sammy? You awake?" he questioned softly.

"Dean," Sam began, turning over on his side so that the pillow would no longer muffle his already pain-dulled voice. "What is there for you to do here?"

The question caught the older sibling off guard. "Uh…well, since the TV's on the fritz, there's umm…unpacking. I'll just do that." Dean got up again and began rummaging aimlessly through their bags as Sam sighed loudly behind him.

"Just what all is there to unpack, Dean?" Sam asked knowingly.

"Uh…there's umm…there's…the laptop!" Dean declared, victoriously removing it from Sam's bag and crossing the room to sit it on the small table.

"Uh huh…now what?" Dean remained silent, as Sam expected he would. "Dean, let's be reasonable…I'm not exactly the best of company here with this headache and there's nothing for you to do."

"Yeeeah... So what are you suggestin' there, Sammy?" Dean asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"That you go out and have a good time instead of torturing yourself here," the younger man answered evenly. It was pretty obvious to Sam that Dean needed – and wanted – a night out but felt obligated to stay in the room because of him…him and his stupid headache. For Dean's sake though, he sought to change that. "So…how 'bout it?"

Dean shook his head quickly. "Nah, I'm cool here."

"You're _bored_ here," Sam corrected, sitting up and staring Dean in the eye. "Don't think you're fooling anyone, let alone your own brother."

In that instant, Dean noticed that Sam's pain-glazed eyes became suddenly clear, revealing the compilation of light brown, green, and blue flecks that made up his hazel orbs. _Yep, definitely bringing out the 'I'm serious' look…wonder how long I'll last this time…_ "Sammy, don't worry about it, I'll be fine—"

"And so will I," Sam stated emphatically. "Dean, you need this, I mean, after that whole ghoul case, I just…I think it would be good for you," he finished softly and sincerely.

"Sam…I don't know…"

"Well, I do, Dean. You need a break…I mean, I saw you eyeing that bar when we drove past it. And hey, since I'll probably turn in early tonight…it'd be a good night for you to go."

"Sam, I don't have to—"

"But you _want_ to…and I want you to be able to. Just…have yourself some fun for once, bro. Don't worry about me."

_Like I could ever stop doing that… _Dean scrubbed a hand through his close-cropped dirty-blond hair and tried one last time. "Sammy…what if you need me here?"

"Dean, like I said, I'll probably be asleep…and if I do need you, I'll call you, okay?" Sam fixed his older brother with his most earnest gaze. "Go have a good time, man…please?"

_Oh man! You can resist the eyes, resist the eyes…resist…resist…shit. _"Okay, Sammy…if you insist."

"I do," Sam said with a dimpled grin. "Besides…I think my headache's already starting to die down."

"Oh yeah? Wanna come with, then?"

Sam laughed softly. "I said it was _dying down_…not _dead_. And when it comes to bar atmospheres, the only good headache is a dead headache."

"True," Dean nodded understandingly, shrugging his leather jacket onto his shoulders. "You sure you're gonna be okay, though?"

"Yes, Mom," Sam sighed with a slight eye roll.

"Shuttup," Dean tossed back as he retrieved a canister of salt from his bag and sat it on the nightstand. "Precaution," he shrugged, meeting his brother's stare. "Seriously, Sam, you call me if you need me…promise?"

"Promise," Sam smiled, also giving his older brother a wink. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"So you're basically tellin' me that I can do nothing, huh Sammy?" Dean snatched the car keys and ducked out the door quickly as a pillow came sailing at him.

"JERK!" Sam called through the closed door, unable to contain his amusement. He again looked at the door as it cracked back open.

"Bitch," Dean grinned, and then shut the door behind him.

Sam shook his head as he fell back contentedly onto the mattress, his hands behind his head. "Have fun, bro."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Wow! You readers really know how to make a writer feel loved! Thanks again to those who commented, those who added this story to their Favorites/Alerts lists, and those who are reading in general; so glad you're enjoying! And thanks as always to psiChic, my dear LLS and beta buddy whose penname my spell checker doesn't want to accept. LOL. Oh, and, random fun fact: there really is a motel in Myrtle Beach called the "Hurl Inn", actually spelled with a "U", not an "E"! My family didn't stay there, thank goodness, but we did drive past it once, and I just couldn't resist sharing the insanity. Heehee! Anyways, Chapter 4 will be up Friday…and SEASON 3 STARTS _TOMORROW!!!_ REJOICE:-D


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, you all guessed it; same ol' song – I don't own _Supernatural_ or those beautiful boys. And man, what a sad, sad song that is… (sniffle)

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot _to _Hollywood Babylon_…none are immune. Muahaha.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"JERK!" Sam called through the closed door, not able to contain his amusement. He again looked at the door as it cracked back open._

"_Bitch," Dean grinned, and then shut the door behind him._

_Sam shook his head as he fell back contentedly onto the mattress, his hands behind his head. "Have fun, bro."_

**Chapter 4**

Dean Winchester was definitely having fun. His brother had been right about getting out; it was doing him a world of good. Already, he had gotten three new phone numbers to add to his collection and won a cool 200 dollars hustling pool in the back room. Plus, it was nice not having to check on Sam every half hour or so – as he always felt the need to do whenever the kid accompanied him to bars – but he wouldn't lie to himself and say he was glad Sam wasn't there. He hated that his younger brother now had to suffer through a migraine on top of everything else he had been suffering through lately. _God, it just seems like the kid never gets a break from anything… _He shook the thoughts away. Sam had made this his night, and he wasn't going to let the kid down by worrying through it.

He checked the clock on the wall. _12:39… Been here about two hours…guess one more couldn't hurt. _He crossed over to the counter and took a seat on one of the stools, thinking about requesting another beer but ultimately deciding against it since he still had to drive back to the motel. Drink or no drink, Dean was enjoying the atmosphere enough as it was. 'I sure do owe the kid one for making me come here,' he thought gratefully.

"Is this seat taken?"

_Ohhh yeah, I owe him BIG… _The husky, seductive female voice had a smile crossing Dean's face before he even turned around to see whom it belonged to. He and his high expectations weren't disappointed as he swiveled the seat around to face a stunning woman who looked to be around the age of thirty eyeing him with an expectant gaze. The ice blue eyes entranced him; she leaned close to his face and tresses of shimmering, long jet-black hair slipped out from behind her shoulders and cascaded down like an ebon waterfall. Her skin was porcelain, her lips full and red, and her breath warm and sweet against Dean's face as she continued to speak.

"Did you not hear me there, big boy, or are you just ignoring me?" she cooed, fully aware that the answer was neither of the two she had provided. This was going to be easy…and too much fun. She had done her time as a watcher…now it was time to play.

"Oh, no, I uh—" Dean hiccupped then cleared his throat. _Damn, I don't stammer and blush around gorgeous women…that's Sammy's gig! Get a grip, Winchester! _"I heard you perfectly fine, sweetheart, and what man alive could ignore any part of _you_? Park it," he finished smoothly, patting the seat beside him after pulling it out.

"Mmm, don't mind if I do." As she slid onto the seat, she deliberately dipped her right shoulder low, allowing the thin strap of her deep red slinky dress to slide down. She'd carefully chosen the dress for two reasons; the first being that it would be irresistible to any man, including the one in front of her. The second? The color. It was the color of blood. And if things, no, _when_ things went according to her plans, her skin would again be covered by this same crimson hue; only this time, it really _would _be blood. _Winchester _blood. She tore herself away from her fantasies and back to the reality of a pair of green eyes staring at her newly exposed skin. She smiled mischievously. "Oh, now how did that happen? I'm so sorry," she purred, pulling the strap back up.

Dean's grin became wider upon hearing her blatantly playful question and apology. It wasn't every day a woman so quickly and shamelessly advanced on him…well, in his fantasies it was, but in reality… He would've normally gotten a smack in the face for staring like that at any sober woman he hadn't yet spoken more than two sentences to. _Finally, a woman who affords me the immediate attention I deserve!_ "Aw, nothin' to apologize for, babe, nothin' at all. Name's Dean, by the way."

The woman smirked. She already knew that was the sucker's name. She knew the name Dean Winchester all too well. It invaded her darkest thoughts, boiled her blood, incensed the fire of rage and revenge within her heart…or lack thereof. Only, when she had last faced him, he was no sucker. Nor was he any and every time he destroyed more and more of those like her. But here and now, she had him wrapped around her little finger, and she would make him suffer. She would make him pay with that which was closest and dearest to his heart. _Let the games begin…_

She wanted to slip her hand over his, but knew that was impossible. She knew from experience that any touch from him would physically hurt her; _burn_ her as a matter of fact. So she refrained and just coyly batted her eyelashes. "Ah, yes…Dean. So nice to meet you again."

Dean brows wrinkled in confusion and his eyes narrowed. He took in the girl more closely as he spoke. "Uhh…look, please forgive me if I'm wrong, but…I'm pretty sure we haven't met before." He recovered from the awkward admission quickly. "'Cause believe me, I'd never forget a face like yours…or body…or—"

"Hush now, Dean, _darling_." The word was laced with a tone of bitterness and sarcasm that made Dean flinch as she held a finger just centimeters from his lips. "It's my turn to talk." She relished the way he tensed away from her _almost_-touch. She had deftly cornered her prey…now it was time to start cruelly toying with it. "You know, I must say I'm a bit hurt that I'm not the least bit _familiar _to you," she said with a wink followed by a mock pout of her lips.

"Well, sorry, _sweetheart_," he countered, an edge of sarcasm suddenly leaping into his tone as well. "Truth's a bitch." _As are you… _He was definitely no longer attracted to this woman. The excited shivers she sent down his spine had quickly turned to cold chills.

She smiled darkly. "Hmph. Well, I suppose I can forgive you, my dear Dean. After all," she paused and leaned in closer to his face again, "you were just a boy then. Now it's plain to see that you're all man, isn't it?" She kicked back from him swiftly, placing her hands behind her head and running them through her hair as she tossed it and beamed at Dean. "Picture getting any clearer for ya there, big boy? Oh, I meant…_man_?"

Her chuckle cemented the irritation – and unease – that Dean was feeling and he clenched his fists at his sides. "Nope, sorry," he artificially apologized. "Must've been a roll of bad film."

"Oh? Well, then, perhaps this will require a different kind of _exposure_…"

Dean watched with disgust where there normally would've been enthrallment and unparalleled stimulation as the woman seductively slid her fingers from the back of her neck over her left shoulder and down to the zipper on the side of her dress. She shot Dean a leer as she began to slowly pull the device downwards, stopping halfway. It only served to further incense Dean; he wanted no part of this woman…no matter how stunning she was. "Nice try, babe, but _no longer interested_."

Her grin only widened. "Oh, neither am I, Dean." The look then suddenly turned into a hate-filled scowl. "What girl in her right mind would be _interested_ in the man who caused her _THIS?!_" Upon the last word of her shout, she sharply swiveled the stool so that Dean had a piercingly clear view of her upper side and the ugly, melted scar that marred the formerly flawless skin…the scar that _he_ hadput there. She watched Dean's green eyes widen, watched them taking in the sight before him, but still struggling to place what it meant. Well, she was sick of waiting for his befuddled little mind to figure things out.

"You really thought that little _flesh wound_ you gave me with your spear was enough to destroy something like me?" she growled. Anger then turned into pure, sick amusement at the fool before her. She laughed low and ominously as she zipped her dress back up, spinning back around to face him. Her frigid blue eyes shot daggers, her words just as sharp. "You. Thought. Wrong."

Realization hit Dean like an ice-cold bucket of water. Events of thirteen years ago blasted through Dean's brain like a rapid-fire slideshow. Of the familiar-hunt that he and his father had finished…or so they had thought. He swallowed thickly. "How…?"

She cocked her head to the side. _I was right, this is too much fun…_ "Oh, I have my tricks, Dean. I'm a survivor."

He considered her answer only for a second, then went from dumbstruck amateur to confident, professional hunter the second after. "Yeah? Well at least you were the _only_ one," he smirked. As he rose from the chair – planning to consult the Impala's trunk for the necessary weapon to finish what he'd started – a sudden force shoved him right back into place.

"Sit a spell," the woman bit out, dropping the hand she had held in the air. "I'm quite enjoying your company." Yes, _this _was the moment she'd been waiting for all night. Hell, she'd been waiting for it for thirteen long years. And she was going to milk it for all it was worth. "You know, Dean, that little nick you gave me still stings sometimes." She paused, letting Dean briefly digest that piece of information before getting to the bigger issue. "But it's _nothing _compared to the stabbing pain I feel when you slay yet another of my kind without care or remorse!"

"Yeah…probably the same pain you've caused countless parents over the years, huh?" Dean growled back. "So how old was the victim for Spring 2004, bitch? And, uh, ya wanna keep it down there with your yelling, ya know, these nice folks around us aren't really gonna be following here—" He was cut off with a snarl from the woman and an arcing wave of her arm, the fingers of her hand splayed apart. Dean's mouth hung agape as every patron in the bar, save him and the woman, froze like statues.

"Now they won't _have _to follow. Oh and, to answer your victim question…seven. So…where were we?" She fixed Dean with a murderous glare. "Ah, yes, we were to the part about how you and your father preyed upon my kind – my _clan_ – thirteen years ago, and _continue_ to do so today!" The corners of her mouth then tugged upward. "Well, at least _you _continue, anyway."

"Shut up, you bitch," Dean growled threateningly.

It only encouraged her. "Hmm, I heard about your father, Dean. My, my, it's always the good ones, isn't it?" she taunted.

"I said SHUT UP!"

"You know, I thought you would've had the good sense to leave things alone after Daddy dearest bought the farm…to leave _us _alone! But I guess _that_ thought of mine was proven wrong a few months ago…wasn't it?"

"Guess so," Dean answered nonchalantly, knowing what she was referring to. In the weeks after his father's death while staying at their good friend Bobby Singer's place, Dean had snuck out on a nighttime solo hunt, seeking more therapy for the loss than what a crowbar and his innocent Impala could provide. And, somehow, he had managed to get lucky and kill another female familiar. "So… did I ruin your girlfriend's night out, or what?" he smirked. "Last familiar standing now, huh?"

"Not _quite_," the woman snarled viciously at Dean's snide remark. "And _you_ ruined MY LIFE, Dean Winchester! You and your damn father, and, by the way, tell me how it is that your partner in crime is now nothing but ash and STILL you persist!"

Dean released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. _Thank God, this psycho bitch doesn't know about— _His thought was interrupted by the sound of a bar glass shattering. "Whoa. Anger management issues, there, lady?" His only response was a fuming glare. "Right, well, you're definitely not my type then. I think I'll be going now." He found himself plastered to the seat again as she raised her hand. _Damn it! _A chill wracked his spine as her demeanor changed from infuriated to eerily calm.

"It's strange, Dean. And here I thought a pretty face like mine would make you go weak in the knees."

_Wow. Narcissist, much? _"Well, I don't normally tend to go for child-eaters as dates…plus, I'm stronger than I look, you know."

_Ah…now the _real_ fun begins… _"Oh, I don't know about that, Dean. Everyone has to have their weaknesses…it's only natural."

"Yeah, well, you're _super_natural, babe, so what do you know 'bout that kinda thing, huh?" Dean shot back.

"Yes…well, I may be supernatural, but I still get the concept. Even I have my weaknesses, you know."

"Which are…?" Dean inquired, though not interested in the answer at all.

"Well, besides the delicious blood of children every ten years…men, mostly. But not just _any_ ol' man. You see, you're very nice to look at, Dean, quite the handsome specimen…but you're not my type _either_. I guess that doesn't hurt your feelings though, does it?"

"I've had worse pain from a hangnail," Dean bit out snarkily. "So, what, _pray tell_, _is_ your type…for the record?"

She enjoyed the sarcasm in his voice; little did he know how hard it would come back to bite him in the ass in mere seconds. "Oh, my weakness, you mean?" She paused; playtime was over – it was time to move in for the kill. "Hmm," she breathed in pseudo-deep thought. "My ultimate weakness would have to be a younger man…a nice sweet one…sort of shy…not afraid to show his emotions; in fact, you can practically read them in his eyes…mmm, yes, _eyes_. Pretty hazel-colored eyes that can melt hearts and crumble resolve with just one look." She looked to Dean, pleased as punch that she could see a raw fear starting to creep into his eyes. _Looks like he's doing the math…I'll continue. _"Oh, and tall. Very tall, and a nice head of thick wavy hair, longish, dark brown." An evil grin split her face as she looked to Dean again. _Time to drive it home. _"And cute little dimples when he smiles."

Dean's stomach dropped and his blood ran cold. _That bitch had just described—_

"Say, Dean," her sickeningly sweet and cheery voice cut in. "Don't you have a little brother that looks, oh, let's see…_exactly _like that?" She paused again, drawing in the breath that would carry her next words to Dean's ears – the words that would freeze his heart. "Or…at least you _did_."

_Oh God…SAMMY! _Dean leapt off the seat before the woman could pin him down again and bolted for the door. When he reached it, he found it locked, and before he knew what happened he was sailing backwards, only to have his flight abruptly take a sharp right turn and slam him into a wall. The woman approached him wearing a cold, gleeful smirk, her hand raised. Dean realized she was again holding him inert. The harsh impact against the wall had not diminished his rage toward her though. Not even a fraction. "You stay THE HELL away from him, you sick bitch," Dean snarled low and dangerously.

"Language, Dean," she chided mockingly. "Well, how ironic…I guess I was describing _your _ultimate weakness instead of mine, wasn't I?" She laughed, and then sighed deeply. "Oh, Dean, how I wish I could just kill you where you stand…or at least touch you." Her nose almost met his before she spun on her heel, stalked away, and then turned to face him again. "But you've got that pesky immunity thing going on, don't you? So I guess I'll just have to go after the next best thing here…won't I?"

Dean's veins pulsed with fury as he screamed. "Don't you even freakin' THINK of touching him!"

She got closer to the hunter again. "But Dean, dear, that's such an unreasonable request…he's far too pretty not to touch." She smiled at the deadly glower Dean shot her. "Plus, he bears no immunity from me. So, now, what's his name again…'Sam', right? Yes, that's right…sweet little Sammy."

'It's _Sam_!' Dean's mind shouted, but the words simply couldn't come out at the moment – he was still too taken aback that the familiar knew of Sam, and _worse_, was daring to threaten him. He could only manage another enraged scowl as she continued to torment him.

"Dean, you never did clarify for me, does he go by 'Sam' or 'Sammy', or does it matter?" She clucked her tongue, knowing that the question had Dean's blood boiling. "You know, I think I'll go with 'Sammy'. I think it suits him…makes him sound so young and innocent, so…_vulnerable_."

"You're not goin' with ANYTHING, you bitch, you're not gonna get NEAR him! I'll kill you before you do! _YOU HEAR ME?!_" Dean fumed.

"Ha. We'll just see about that, Dean. We'll see who kills who first." She flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder. "Oh, and since we're doing the name game here, _my_ name…is Odessa. Tell Sammy I said 'hello', Dean. Or wait…I'll just go tell him myself." With those chilling final words, she disappeared in a flash of dark light.

Dean hit the ground immediately when she vanished, and the rest of the bar and its patrons came back to life, completely unaware of the evil that had walked among them. But Dean was all too aware…and this evil was going after his baby brother. Dean raced from the bar and drove the Impala lead-foot back to the motel, praying he would get to Sammy before Odessa did.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Oh, man! (blushes) Thank you so much again to all who reviewed and added this to your Favorites/Alerts lists; you don't know how happy you all are making me! Just another little fun fact – this was the first chapter of this story that I wrote, LOL. I had those patches of dialogue between Dean and the baddie and also the concept of the whole story stuck in my mind…so my whole story grew out of this chapter. Definitely didn't go in numerological order, LOL. But, oh well, seems to be working. Thanks as always to my LLS for the beta, and thank you all for reading! And hey, how about that _magnificent_ season premiere last night?! The boys are back in town, YAY:-D


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: Ha! I wrote to Vancouver and got a letter back telling me that _Supernatural_ is all mine on days that don't end in "Y"! This is so awe—wha? Oh…crud.

SPOILERS: Again, none for this chapter, but up to _Hollywood Babylon _for the whole story.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dean hit the ground immediately when she vanished, and the rest of the bar and its patrons came back to life, completely unaware of the evil that had walked among them. But Dean was all too aware…and this evil was going after his baby brother. Dean raced from the bar and drove the Impala lead-foot back to the motel, praying he would get to Sammy before Odessa did._

**Chapter 5**

Sam stood over the bathroom sink filling a small glass with water to take another pain pill with. The migraine had finally begun to subside and he was sure that one more dose of Advil would put it to rest for good. After taking the pill, he realized he was relatively thirsty and filled the glass again, sipping on it as he exited the tiny bathroom. He paused in the doorway; Dean hadn't come back. _Good._ Dean had been so hesitant to leave Sam alone with the headache that Sam was almost expecting him to have cut his outing short. Sam was glad he hadn't – Dean deserved to have a fun night to himself as often as he could spare it…well, 'to himself' at least until he found a girl. But that was usually the point for Dean anyway...

Sam smiled to himself as he took another sip and headed toward his bed. His bare feet met with a sticky patch on the carpet on the way and he groaned in disgust. _Definitely don't wanna know what _that _is… _He promptly stepped away from the unknown stain and glanced over at the laptop. He considered doing research, but ultimately decided against it, figuring that staring at the screen for even a small amount of time might revive his dying migraine. _Sure as hell don't want that…might as well call it a night. _

As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, he felt the atmosphere of the room rapidly become oppressive. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he lowered the water glass from his lips and briefly scanned the room. His searching gaze immediately halted on a dark orb floating in the middle of it. The glass slipped from Sam's hand and spilled its contents onto the floor as the orb flashed blindingly to reveal a beautiful raven-haired woman standing in its place. She smiled wickedly and Sam's mouth went dry upon her words.

"Hello, Sammy."

Sam unglued his feet from the floor and quickly started to backpedal toward the canister of salt that was sitting on the nightstand. He never made it. With a wave of her hand, the woman sent him flying into the wall opposite the beds and pinned him to it. Sam's heart pounded in his chest as she approached him, a wanton look in her pale blue eyes. He sucked in a breath preparing to shout out, but the woman launched herself at him and swiftly slammed her hand over his mouth.

"Uh-ah-ah, Sammy, hush now, darling…you need not bother crying out for big brother, he's not here yet. It's just you…and me." Still holding the one hand over his mouth, she began to slowly run her other hand down his muscular chest, stopping its descent at the hem of his t-shirt and then slyly sliding it up under the thin cotton fabric. A salacious smile crossed her face as she felt him shiver at the cold, unwanted touch to his warm skin. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Using my powers sort of takes the heat right out of my hands," she purred, even though she knew he likely wasn't shivering from the coldness alone. She continued to explore him as she spoke again. "Now, Sammy, I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth, but when I do, you've got to promise me that you won't scream. Okay?"

A strange, unchallengeable hold of submission entered Sam's body as she placed her hand over his wildly beating heart, and where he would've normally fought back tooth and nail – both physically and verbally – he could only nod his head to her demand. He exhaled shakily as she released the hold on his mouth and dropped her other hand back down to her side. He wanted to ask her who, no, _what _she was, what she wanted, but he couldn't find his voice to even speak, let alone scream.

"That's a good boy," she murmured, moving to his side and bringing the hand that had kept him silent back up to thumb at his cheek. "Now, I need you to do one more thing for me, Sammy sweetie…" She gently lifted and held a tuft of soft chestnut-brown curls away from his ear as she leaned in and brushed her lips against it to whisper her final demand to him. "Sleep." She stepped away from him, filled with delight as he glanced to her, his striking hazel eyes confused, frightened, and suddenly glassy. "Sweet dreams, Sammy." With those words, his eyes slipped shut and he began to sink slowly down the wall.

Odessa walked over and knelt down beside him, then slid her arms underneath his and dragged him away from the wall. Sam now flat on his back, she turned his face to hers and took a moment to savor his placid features. The cherry-pink lips that were slightly parted in repose…the set of long, dark lashes that made his eyes beautiful even when they were closed…the wisps of hair that fell in them and only added to that effect... _Agh! Stop it…concentrate…_

With one arm behind his back and the other underneath his knees, she hoisted up Sam's long frame as if he weighed nothing. _Yes, supernatural strength has its perks… _As she stood and looked down at the unconscious young man cradled in her arms, his body against hers, she shook her head. "Oh, Sammy, you've no idea how tempting this is…" she sighed, thinking of all the things she could do to him – all the things she _wanted _to do to him. But they would have to wait. Right now, she had to make this look nice and convincing for Dean.

TBC…

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A/N: Okay, a bit shorter of a chapter than my previous ones, but that was the best place to end it, and my beta said it was just fine, so…there! LOL. And thanks to said beta, my LLS, the umm… (checks notes) yes, okay, the "lightning-fast Beta from the Wild, Wild Southeast!" Did I get it right, LLS? LOL. And of course, the sincerest thanks to all my readers, you all make it worthwhile:-)


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I own _Supernatural_! And those beautiful brothers? They're all mine too, so, sorry for the rest of ya'll but I—wait…uh-oh. Um, could someone go check the nearest abandoned building and get me out before the Djinn sucks me dry? Thanks.

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ to _Hollywood Babylon_ goes, entire-story wise.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _As she stood and looked down at the unconscious young man cradled in her arms, his body against hers, she shook her head. "Oh, Sammy, you've no idea how tempting this is…" she sighed, thinking of all the things she could do to him – all the things she wanted to do to him. But they would have to wait. Right now, she had to make this look nice and convincing for Dean._

**Chapter 6**

Dean screeched into the back parking lot of the shabby little motel he and Sam were staying at, jerked open the door of the Impala, and ran around to the trunk to retrieve the spear that – though it had failed him years ago – would tonight end the danger to himself, innocent children, and most importantly, his little brother. Even Odessa merely speaking Sam's name had determined for Dean that the creature would not be allowed to live another night. Nobodythreatened his Sammy. _Nobody_. He steeled himself, weapon ready, and approached the door to their room, key in hand. His fingers shook, causing him several failed attempts to unlock the door. He nearly ripped the cheap wood off its hinges when he finally succeeded, eyes immediately scanning the room. What he saw caused him to sink to his knees in the entryway.

Sam was lying in bed on his side, facing Dean, wrapped up snugly in the sheets, clearly asleep…just asleep…unharmed…_safe_. 'No,' Dean mentally amended himself. 'Not safe, not until I get in that room with him.' He stood up to do just that when an all-too recognizable force knocked him backwards out of the doorway and a few feet into the parking lot. He quickly regained his footing and turned to face the enemy. Odessa stood where Dean had been thrown from, smiling coldly. "Ladies first, Dean," she admonished and then stepped into the motel room, heading toward a defenseless Sam.

"NO!" Dean screamed and hurled himself into the room after her. Behind him, the door slammed shut and he soon found himself pinned against the wall beside it. The spear slipped out of his hand and fell uselessly to the floor. _Shit! This is getting so old! _"Ya know, don't you have any other tricks up your sleeve, there, babe?"

"Hmm. Well, Dean, I could always just swing something heavy and knock you unconscious, I suppose, but no…I want you to be wide awake for all of this." She crossed the floor to the foot of Sam's bed.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM HIM, you BITCH! Don't you TOUCH him!" Dean cried desperately. "Sam! SAMMY! Wake up! NOW!"

Odessa only stared licentiously at Sam as she addressed Dean. "Nice try, big brother. Too bad your little Sammy isn't _just _sleeping."

_Oh God no… _An icy jolt of panic shot through Dean's heart as he examined Sam more carefully. _No, she's lying, he's just sleeping, he's not… _The coldness spread throughout Dean as Odessa's words rang in his ear. _And sometimes people who are…are… _gone_… look like they're only asleep… _But Dean shook that thought away as he observed a wonderful sight – the simple rise and fall of Sam's chest. _Oh thank God, he's breathing. He's alive… What did she mean, then?_

As if she'd read Dean's mind, Odessa turned to him and smirked. "Oh no, Dean, don't worry. He's not dead…_yet_," she taunted. "I've just knocked him out with a little sleep spell…I really had you going, didn't I?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean growled.

She laughed. "Oh, Dean, you're just too easy. You should've seen the look on your face when you burst through that door…so relieved to find I hadn't gotten to your precious Sammy first…or so you thought. That was the fun of it, Dean. To let you think it was all okay before I ripped it away from you…makes it that much more painful." She walked to the side of the bed where Sam lay, bent down, and tilted his face toward hers. "He really is beautiful. Looks so young and innocent when he sleeps, don't you think, Dean? …Almost young enough for me to eat."

"God! You damn FREAK, you get your filthy hands OFF of him!"

"Oh don't worry, Dean…it hasn't been ten years yet," she smiled. "Besides, Sammy doesn't mind. He's not even awake to realize what I—"

"That's what makes it SICK, you crazy bitch!" Dean roared. "You do _anything _like that to him and I'll—"

"Like _what_, Dean?" Odessa spat, then licked her lips and menacingly lowered her tone, leering down at Sam. "Touch him?" She leisurely traced a finger over Sam's lips. "Toy with him?" Her fingers moved up to lace through Sam's hair, and she impishly twirled a lock of it around one of them. As she looked back to Dean, a depraved smile lit her face. She wrapped her other hand around Sam's wrist and brought the tender inner part of it to her lips, pressing a slow kiss to it. She again met Dean's disgusted and infuriated glare. "_Violate _him?"

"You sick bitch, you do that and _so help me God,_ I. WILL. KILL. YOU. And then I'll bring you back and kill you again, and again, and again, until there's nothing left of you to kill. DO. I. MAKE. MY. SELF. CLEAR?" Dean had never felt such wrath toward anything in his entire life at this point, not even the damn Yellow-Eyed Demon. This creature had just gone _beyond _too far.

"Crystal, Dean," Odessa answered, lowering Sam's wrist back down to the bed. "It's all in good time anyway, right? Besides…I'd want Sammy to be awake for that. I'd want to see the fear and revulsion in those pretty eyes of his as I used up every last bit of him."

"SHUT THE _HELL_ UP!" Dean's veins and muscles bulged as he tried to break free of Odessa's hold. But it was a futile effort. He only had his voice. "You get away from my brother NOW!"

"Hush, Dean. You'll wake him," Odessa said as she bent down even lower and began to nuzzle her lips against the side of Sam's neck. She smiled against his smooth skin as Dean exploded into obscenities yet again. How she hated for round one of her little game to end. But round two, she was sure, would prove to be even more satisfying. Her work was done for now; she had firmly planted the seed of distraction at the very core of Dean's mind. And as she stepped up her game, it would soon enough grow into obsession. The rest of her kind would be safe – as long as Dean had reason to believe that Sam was not. _And, oh, will I give him plenty of reasons…_ She knew that in this game, only the strongest would survive…any weakness would lead to defeat. And now that she knew Dean's weakness – and, _oh_, what a _delicious_ weakness it was – she would prey upon it mercilessly, exploit it to the bone…and ultimately, victory – and revenge – would be hers. Her prize would be the from-then-on safety of what remained of her kind, the _permanent_ top honor amongst their ranks…and, best of all, the irreparable shattering of the once proud and mighty Dean Winchester's heart when she broke the vow she would eventually make to him by ending his beloved baby brother's life right in front of him – just for the hell of it. After that, she would let him suffer the unbearable loss for a few days, and then, if that suffering hadn't already done the job…she would find a way to kill him too. Game over. She had it all planned out.

She snapped out of her reverie and moved her lips to Sam's ear. _Time to call it a night. _"Wake up, Sammy. Big brother's been asking for you." She looked up at Dean as she felt the boy begin to stir underneath her. "Aw, see, Dean, you woke your baby brother up…shame on you. He was sleeping so peacefully." After a final, lingering kiss to the waking boy's cheek, Odessa stood up from the bed. "I guess that's my cue to be going."

"You'd BETTER get the hell out of here, you psychotic bitch, and if you EVER come near my brother again—"

"There are no 'ifs' about it, Dean. Tell Sammy I had a wonderful time…can't wait to do it again. Till then, boys," she chirped, and then disappeared in another flash of dark light.

Again Dean dropped from the wall upon Odessa's departure. He growled angrily at the spot where she had vanished, then scrambled to his feet and rushed to Sam's side. "Sammy?" He cupped his brother's face and gently turned it towards him. "Sammy, c'mon, little brother, wake up. Let me see those puppy-dog eyes." Right on cue, Sam's eyelids started to flutter and seconds later they opened to reveal two disorientated but still clear hazel orbs. "Hey, Sammy," Dean said softly. "You okay?"

_Am I okay? I…I don't know… _Sam struggled to recollect everything that had just happened; obviously he'd missed quite a lot! Last thing he remembered, Dean hadn't been there, and now, there he was, an unparalleled look of worry in his green eyes – worry for Sam. _Was my migraine really _that _bad? _Sam swallowed; his throat was parched for some reason. Like he'd been denied use of his voice for hours. _What the hell happened to me…? _

After a quick survey of the room, which let him down in providing clues that may have led to the answer to his million-dollar question, he met Dean's gaze. "De-ean?" he rasped out. "What's goin' on? Did I fall asleep?"

Dean's heart ached at the naïveté of his brother's question; the way that Sam slowly sat up rubbing blearily at his eyesdidn't help matters either. Sure, in reality, Sam was twenty-three years old – strong, courageous, smart, a skilled and capable hunter and an upstanding and compassionate young man. But in a part of Dean's mind, Sam would always be a little boy – he would always be 'Sammy'. _And God, if the kid doesn't just completely look and act the part half the time…_ Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, you did, Sammy." _Just not of your own volition… God, should I tell him?_

"Oh…okay." Sam sunk back down onto the pillow and blinked lazily, still staring at Dean. "What time did you get back?"

_That sleep spell must take a while to wear off… _It didn't matter. Spell-induced or not, the increasingly childlike conversation that Sam was working hard to carry on had made Dean's decision for him. _What he doesn't know can't hurt him. _"Uh, 'bout fifteen minutes ago, I think."

"Oh." Sam blinked once more before his eyes slipped closed.

Dean stared down at Sam for a moment, then was about to get to work on furiously Odessa-proofing the motel room any way he could think of before his surprisingly still-awake brother's soft voice broke the silence.

"You have a good time?"

Dean smiled to himself and turned around to face his brother again, who was looking all of six years old even at six-foot-four, lying on his side facing Dean, one hand lightly grasping the hem of the sheets just below his waist, the other hand comfortably sandwiched between his cheek and the pillow. "Yup. Peachy," Dean lied. _What he doesn't know… _Dean sighed inaudibly; that thought would probably become his mantra for the following days. He didn't know if Sam would remember everything in the morning or never remember at all, but he wasn't about to remind him.

"S'good." A loud yawn escaped from Sam's lips as he stretched his long legs before curling them back up. "M'still tired, Dean, I think m'gonna go back t'sleep." He sighed contentedly. "M'glad you had a good time."

_Aw, kiddo…I wish I really had. Then you'd be safe… _That's how it had started. His selfless little brother, even in the grip of a crushing headache, had only wanted Dean to go out and have himself some fun. Now said little brother's life was in grave danger because of said selflessness. Odessa may have found them in some other way anyway, but that wasn't the point. As usual for Sam, no good deed had gone unpunished. _God, Sammy doesn't deserve this…why is it that so many bad things happen to the kid when all he deserves is the good? _"Thanks, Sammy," Dean choked out, his voice laden with affection. "You go ahead and get some more rest, okay? I'll be right here." _Always._

"'kay, Dean…you get some rest too, though, a'right?"

_There he goes again…constant concern for others. _"I will, Sammy, don't worry 'bout it, kiddo." _I will…as soon as I make sure that bitch can't get in this room and anywhere near you again._

"'kay, Dean," Sam breathed out in the midst of another yawn. "'Night."

"'Night, Sammy." _I'll keep you safe…_

Dean worked determinedly for over half an hour, periodically taking timeouts to observe his little brother and make sure everything was all right with him. He salted the doorway and the windows thoroughly, including making an extra circle of salt around Sam's bed, hoping his brother would think nothing of it if he woke before Dean could get rid of it in the morning. He also placed a protection charm under Sam's pillow, being careful not to accidentally rouse him. It seemed his brother was actually going to get a peaceful night's sleep, for once. But the knowledge and accompanying irony of _why_ was not lost on Dean. Not at all. Finally, he placed the spear in between the nightstand and his own bed, right within easy reach. _Now if only I could impale the bitch with it before she throws me against a wall next time… _

Sam was now as secured as he could be. But Dean knew it wasn't enough. He sat on the edge of his bed, removed his shoes and socks, and wistfully gazed at the small protective tattoo of the symbol of Helios that adorned the bottom of his right foot. He laughed inwardly at the memory of his teenage self being so averted to the idea of a tattoo that he insisted, downright _begged _that his father tell his hunter friend/tattoo artist to put the thing on the bottom of his foot so no one could see it. Of course, now it wouldn't bother him in the least, but back then… He had finally won that battle by telling a ten year-old Sammy of the issue in order to shamelessly use the ultimate weapon against his father – Sammy's puppy-dog eyes. To this day, Dean was still convinced that those eyes could quite possibly be the eighth wonder of the world. No matter what Sam's age, they would always get what he wanted. Man or woman, family, friend, or stranger, old or young…the eyes had them all. Dean could only wish he possessed them himself half the time. But right now, Dean was wishing Sam possessed something _he _had – the protective tattoo.

The thought had never crossed his or his father's mind to have Sam get one as well since the youngest Winchester had been safe in Minnesota with Pastor Jim at the time of the hunt. In fact, after the hunt was over, all three Winchesters had practically forgotten about the tattoos that John and Dean bore. And the memory of them had never resurfaced until Dean's impulsive solo hunt, but, even more so…until _now_. Dean exhaled deeply as he suddenly felt the need to check on Sam up-close. He slid off of his bed and quietly crossed to his brother's side.

Sam was fast asleep, snoring lightly. _Very _lightly. _Another _Sam trait that Dean could only wish he possessed. He couldn't deny that he cut some pretty loud Zs at times, although he never _could_ rival his dad… _Dad… Man could we use ya here right about now…_ Dean sighed wistfully and gently pulled the thin covers up to Sam's chin and brushed his bangs out of his eyes, not being able to hide the amused smile when the strands slid right back into place. "Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'll keep you safe…I promise." _Always. _His own words of assurance fresh in his mind, Dean climbed into his own bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

TBC…

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A/N: Well! I'm having so much fun with this, heehee! My sincerest thanks to everyone who's reading this growing baby of mine, and additional thanks to those who reviewed and/or added it to their Favorites/Alerts lists for keeping said baby fed! LOL. Love reading your comments. And psiChic, my brilliant beta, love ya like an LLS…which you are, of course. LOL. Alrighty, till next chapter, sports—err, _Supernatural_ fans!


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: Well, I was gonna come up with some creative and possibly humorous lie about how I own _Supernatural_ and the boys, but the fact that I typed "disclaimer" so prominently at the beginning of this sentence kinda ruined the punch line…darn.

SPOILERS: Anything before _Folsom Prison Blues_ has potential. As a reminder, this story takes place between that episode and _Hollywood Babylon_.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dean sighed wistfully and gently pulled the thin covers up to Sam's chin and brushed his bangs out of his eyes, not being able to hide the amused smile when the strands slid right back into place. "Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'll keep you safe…I promise." _Always._ His own words of assurance fresh in his mind, Dean climbed into his own bed and fell into a fitful sleep._

**Chapter 7**

_3:26 AM…_ The bright red numbers flashing on the alarm clock were the first thing to greet Sam as he was awoken by…well, he didn't know what, yet. It wasn't like he wasn't used to the scenario, hell, it happened just about every other night! But he was pretty sure what roused him from sleep this time was not a nightmare. His half-mast eyes sluggishly surveyed the room and eventually fell on Dean, and the mystery was solved. _Okay, so it wasn't one of _my _nightmares, anyway. _Sam opened his eyes fully and noted that Dean was moaning and squirming. It looked to be less serious than Sam's usual nightmares, but his gaze held concern nonetheless, though Dean couldn't see that. Sam was just about to go snap Dean out of it when the squirming escalated into thrashing and the moaning suddenly became coherent.

"Get off him, you bitch…don't touch him…I'll kill you if you do that to him…"

Sam sat back down on the edge of his own bed. He was fairly certain that he was the 'him' in Dean's ramblings, but he sure had no idea who the 'bitch' was. He wanted to do nothing more than end Dean's suffering, but he was also getting a sneaking suspicion that Dean was hiding something from him. He hadn't been 'touched' by anyone that could be considered a 'bitch' lately that he could remember…so what in the world was Dean dreaming about? And who?

"Sam…Sammy…don't let her do that to you…don't let her use you like that…wake up…Sammy, wake up!"

_Okay, first suspicion confirmed…the dream's about me…and some woman. What does he mean by her 'using me'? And why won't I wake up…?_ Slowly but surely, pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall together for Sam. He recalled the confusion he felt when he woke up earlier in the night to find Dean staring at him, eyes filled with more worry than a headache could ever cause – well, a normal headache at least. And there was also that tiny niggling fact that he hadn't even remembered falling asleep. Yes, there was little doubt left that Dean was hiding something from him. And Sam intended to find out what it was. 

"Don't do this to him, Odessa, please don't…he never did anything to you…don't hurt him, please, please don't…I was the one who wounded you, he had nothing to do with it…do what you want to me, just leave my brother alone…"

Sam sat transfixed. It sounded like Dean knew this woman – this 'Odessa' – from his past…apparently he had even _wounded_ her. In a hunt? Was she supernatural? If it _was _from a hunt, how long ago did the hunt occur? Dean had said Sam 'had nothing to do with it'; maybe he had been at college? Or maybe it went much farther back… Whatever the case, Sam needed to know, not just for his sake, but for Dean's as well. Keeping the secret was obviously wreaking havoc with Dean's subconscious, as the nightmare now attested to.

"No, please, just leave him alone…oh God, no. Please don't hurt him…no, DON'T! Sammy, wake up NOW! SAMMY!" Dean bolted upright, panting heavily, eyes bright and sweat rolling down his flushed face. "Sammy, no…"

Upon Dean's broken last words, Sam rushed to his side, gripping his arms to hold him still and leaning in close to his face so that Dean could see he wasn't hurt…or worse. "Dean, c'mon, man, you're all right…I'm all right. I'm right here, it was just a nightmare," Sam softly soothed. He breathed a sigh of relief when his brother's green eyes met his and Dean shakily spoke his name. "Yeah, it's me, Dean. Who else would it be, right?" he said with a small smile.

"Oh, thank God," Dean exhaled. He brought a trembling hand up to clutch at Sam's wrist, and Sam knew it was no coincidence that Dean's fingers went right to his pulse point. "You okay?"

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Am _I _okay? I think I should be the one asking _you _that, big bro." It simultaneously amazed, frustrated, unnerved, and touched Sam that no matter how bad the situation was for his older brother, _he_ was always Dean's first concern. Well, right now it was time for him to be concerned about Dean…and that meant getting the truth out of him, even if it took all night. "Dean…what was that dream about? Who's Odessa?"

_Shit! I freakin' said her name?! Damn nightmare… _Dean had intended to keep the entire Odessa incident a secret from Sam…in order to protect him, of course. But it seemed his subconscious had betrayed him. Dean didn't know just how much, but he was hoping it wasn't enough for him to have to completely spill the beans to his younger brother. He wasn't ready for that, not now, and maybe not ever. "Sam, I think we should talk about this some other time…" _Like after I've wasted that bitch and you're out of danger. _

Sam had been afraid he would say that. "Dean," he began gently but firmly, "I think we should talk about this _now_."

"Sam—"

"You're constantly making me tell you about _my_ nightmares, Dean…I would hope you'd tell me about yours too," Sam lightly reprimanded.

"Yeah, well, sometimes your nightmares aren't just nightmares, Sammy," Dean countered quietly.

_He's got a point there… _"Yeah, I know. But that doesn't mean that dealing with your nightmares is any less important." _That doesn't mean that _you _are any less important. _"C'mon, man, I'm obviously involved with whatever happened in your nightmare, so I need to be involved in helping you deal with it." Sam looked his brother directly in the eye. "What aren't you telling me, Dean?"

Dean knew what was coming. He tried to duck his head down, but he wasn't quick enough. Sam's wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes locked with his and Dean's fortitude dissipated instantly. Sam had every right to know what had happened to him earlier that night. But Dean was going to be gradual about it. "Sammy…before you, uh…woke up and saw that I'd gotten back…what do you remember?"

Sam stared down at his hands as he searched his memory. "Um…I guess the biggest thing I remember is that I had that headache…and it was going away. I'd taken some more Advil for it…and I was thirsty and got some more water to drink. Stepped on some mystery substance on the carpet." Sam bit back a laugh as he saw Dean wrinkle up his nose in disgust at that piece of information. "Was thinking about doing some more research but afraid it might re-aggravate my head…" Sam paused and met Dean's attentive gaze. "That's about it. I don't remember falling asleep, but you said I had, right?"

Dean sighed heavily and then seemed to begin a search for the aforementioned spot on the carpet. "Sam, you were…asleep, yeah, but…you didn't really…_fall _asleep," Dean stammered out, still not meeting Sam's eyes.

"Whaddya mean I didn't _fall _asleep?" Sam questioned, clearly confused and increasingly nervous. "W-was I…drugged?"

Dean could clearly hear the fear in Sam's voice and would've done anything at that point to keep the terrifying truth from his baby brother. But he knew Sam wouldn't let up until Dean told him everything. _This sucks out loud… _"Um…sorta 'yes' and sorta 'no'," Dean cryptically answered.

_What the hell did _that _mean? _"Dean...I don't get it…what you said. Just tell me straight up…please. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. Together." Sam put his hand on Dean's arm and found his eyes again. "Was it that Odessa woman?"

"Yeah," Dean told him honestly, knowing the jig was long past up. But, God, he really didn't want to tell him anymore…

"Dean…who is she? Or _what _is she? And…" Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. "What did she do to me?"

_Oh God…anything but that last question…what _didn't _she do to you?! _"She, um…she's one of those things called familiars, one of the ones Dad and I met on the hunt when you were ten, remember?" Sam nodded. "Well…I stabbed her with that special wooden spear we keep in the trunk, the only thing that can kill familiars, right?" Another nod. "Right…so, she went down, ya know? Dad and I were sure it had killed her, but…guess it's pretty obvious we were wrong, huh?"

"Guess so," Sam agreed sympathetically.

"God…so damn _stupid_," Dean cursed himself regretfully, earning him a pointed glare from Sam. He met it. "I only got her in the side, not in the heart or the stomach or someplace vital…I should've made sure she was dead."

"Don't," Sam said sharply. "If you're looking to get the blame for whatever's goin' on here, you're _not_ gonna get it from me…alright?" He approved Dean's nod with one of his own. "Good. So, this whole thing…it's about revenge now?"

Dean looked down at the floor again, and then back up at Sam. "Honestly, I don't know for sure. But that's the most likely candidate, I suppose."

"Yeah. So when exactly did she show back up…and what did she do?" Sam wasn't going to let Dean of the hook when it came to the question he had been doggedly avoiding. It was the part that Dean most needed to get off his chest, obviously.

Dean sighed. _Kid's like a dog with a bone… _"Well, when I went out, I went to that bar…I met her there. Didn't know who she was at first, but she was pretty quick to remind me."

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" Sam immediately asked.

Dean's lips twitched into a small smile. "Nah, I'm good." It abruptly vanished upon his next confession. "But, uh…she…she told me that she was gonna hurt _you_…that she was…she was gonna come after you."

"Oh." It was Sam's turn to look down at the floor and then back up again. "And she did…right?"

"Yeah," Dean choked out. "I…I tried to get back here as fast as I could, and I thought I'd made it 'cause it looked like you'd just fallen asleep when I got here. But…" Dean swallowed thickly as Sam gave his arm an encouraging and reassuring squeeze. "But, she showed up. Said she'd already been here, and put this…this sleep spell on you."

"Sleep spell?" Sam repeated in shock.

"Yeah." Dean could feel his composure rapidly dissolving as Sam's complexion slightly paled upon the revelation. Sam glanced away from Dean as he tried to process what information he'd just been given, and Dean knew that his brother was trying to hide the fear creeping into his expressive eyes. "Sam…? You okay?" _Stupid question… _Apparently it was one that the kid hadn't heard, as well. "Sammy?"

"I'm all right," Sam squeaked out. He finally met his brother's questioning gaze. "So, did…did she do anything to me while I was…asleep?"

The apprehensive look in Sam's hazel orbs and the tremor in his voice threatened to break Dean's heart. _God, why does it always have to be Sammy…? _"Sam…we can…you don't have to—"

"Just tell me, Dean…I wanna know," Sam broke into Dean's last attempt to back out.

Dean swallowed. "God, Sam." Dean roughly scrubbed a hand across his face. "She pinned me to the wall, with her powers, ya know…and she walked over to you, you were just lying on your bed, out cold…" Dean suddenly slammed his fist into the mattress in frustration. "God, I couldn't stop her! She…she had her hands" – _and lips_ – "all over you and there was nothing I could _do_ about it!" Dean spilled out before standing up from the bed and walking to the middle of the room, his back to Sam.

A nauseous sensation came over Sam as words from Dean's nightmare, coupled with what Dean had just revealed, came back to him.

'_Sammy…don't let her do that to you…don't let her use you like that.' _

A chill shot up Sam's spine. He had to know… "Dean…did—did she…" Sam couldn't complete the question.

Stinging moisture blurred Dean's vision at the painful hitch in Sam's voice and he immediately returned to his baby brother's side. He knelt down in front of him. "Sammy, look at me." When Sam didn't raise his bowed head, Dean put his fingertips under Sam's chin and gently raised it for him until Sam's tear-filled eyes were looking into his. "Sam, _no_," Dean firmly assured. "She didn't do that, okay? She didn't." Sam exhaled shakily and closed his eyes in relief, causing a stagnant salty droplet to slip out. Dean gently wiped it away with his thumb. When his eyes reopened, Dean could tell all the worry hadn't yet gone out of them.

"Dean," Sam began. "You…you would tell me if—"

"She'd done it?" Dean finished for him. "Yes. Look at me, Sam," Dean commanded, wanting his brother to see the truth in his eyes. "I would tell you. She didn't do it," Dean reassured. "She…she mentioned doing it, one time, but I told her if she tried anything like that that I would kill her and then keep bringing her back so I could do it all over again…and you know I mean every word of that, don't you?"

"Yeah." Sam's response was somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "I know you do."

"Damn right," Dean said with a cocky smile and a comforting squeeze to Sam's shoulder. "Ya know, I think she knew it too…she didn't stick around too long after that," Dean said lightheartedly, and then grew more serious. "Sammy…she's not gonna live to see tomorrow, okay? I'll nail that bitch before she touches you again. I will."

"Dean, tell me you're not thinking of goin' after her alone…what's to say that she won't try to hurt you, too?"

"This," Dean answered bluntly, lifting his right leg to show Sam the symbol of Helios on the bottom of his foot. "Remember? Provides protection from all things familiar-related…except for the whole telekinetic powers thing, apparently."

"Oh…right. Forgot all about that thing," Sam said with a smirk, remembering how Dean had enlisted his help to make sure the tattoo went on the bottom of his foot and nowhere else.

"Ya know, ironically, so did I…till a few months ago, that is." He continued before Sam could ask what had happened a few months ago, as he still hadn't confessed to the kid about his impromptu late-night solo hunt. "Anyway, guess the tattoo still works…sooo…" Dean's eyes lit up and a wide grin crossed his face. "Guess what, Sammy-boy? You're gettin' one of your own later today."

Sam shot Dean an anxious look, opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again upon quickly deciding the statement would be inarguable with Dean. Dean _never _lost an argument when it came to keeping Sam safe. Sam sighed in defeat and then turned his most imploring, wide-eyed gaze on his brother. "Can I get it on the bottom of my foot, too?"

Dean chuckled and playfully ruffled Sam's hair. "'Course ya can, kiddo, who would I of all people be to deny you that comfort?"

"Just checkin'", Sam muttered before flopping back down on his mattress.

"Right," Dean said, settling back down on his own bed with a mischievous smile on his face. "_Sammy's gettin' ii-inked, Sammy's gettin' ii-inked…_" The only response Dean's taunting tune got was a pillow launched in his direction – and a rather well aimed one, at that – accompanied by a muffled, 'Jerk'. Dean's mischievous smile melted into an affectionate one. "Bitch," he whispered back, and then fell into contented slumber.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: So, LOL, if you're like my LLS, you're already cracking up at the implication that Dean is taking Sam to a tattoo parlor…what can I say? LOL. Continued thanks to all who are reading, to all that have added this to Favorites/Alerts, and to my rockin' reviewers, of course! Heehee, as the number at the tops of these pages keeps growing, so does my happiness! And a big _muchas gracias_ to my LLS for the beta…'cause we were having fun testing our Spanish knowledge with each other last night on AIM. LOL. M'kay, that's it for now. Ya'll come back next chapter, ya hear? LOL. ;-)


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: Has Hell frozen over yet? No? Okay, then I still don't own _Supernatural_ or those wonderful Winchesters.

SPOILERS: None for this chapter again, but from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ throughout the entire story.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"Sammy's gettin' ii-inked, Sammy's gettin' ii-inked…" The only response Dean's taunting tune got was a pillow launched in his direction – and a rather well aimed one, at that – accompanied by a muffled, 'Jerk'. Dean's mischievous smile melted into an affectionate one. "Bitch," he whispered back, and then fell into contented slumber._

**Chapter 8**

Dean could barely bite back the laughter as Sam's eyes and mouth opened wide in a disbelieving stare at the place before him – Butch's Tattoo Parlor and Beer Joint. "Sammy…we're heee-rre!" Dean called out in a deliberately annoying singsong voice.

The only retort Sam could manage – to Dean's amusement – was a high-pitched squawk. _He has GOT to be kidding with this… _"Dude…_please _tell me you are NOT serious about this place…tattoo parlor AND beer joint?! You're telling me I could possibly have some completely plastered freak of nature repeatedly sticking some needle-thing into my foot?!"

The laughter was now threatening to explode from Dean's mouth as he answered his brother. "Maybe, maybe not, Sammy-boy…you can always just check their breath beforehand to find the ones that haven't been nursin' the bottle." A snicker finally came out as he heard Sam gag at the very thought of doing such a thing. He exited the Impala with glee and walked around to retrieve his stationary brother. "All right, come on, geek boy, they're waitin' for ya! Might even give ya a lollipop after you're all done."

"Yeah, well if they do, I'll be sure and shove the stick up your ass then, short stuff," Sam shot back.

"Short stuff?" Dean stopped walking then ran to catch up with Sam, who was moving like he was marching to his doom. "I resent that remark, Sasquatch!" Dean said with no heat in his voice and a light cuff to the back of his brother's head. "Ya know, God, they might not even have a chair in there big enough to hold your freakishly long body…might have to hook two of them together…or maybe they'll just lay you out on the dirty floor and—"

"Can it, midget man."

_Midget man?_ Dean stopped walking again. _Okay, he's gone too far with that one…_ "Hey!" Dean chased after his brother again. "That was pretty low, man!"

"You would know all about being a 'low man', wouldn't ya?" Sam said, turning around to show Dean a triumphant dimpled grin.

_Damn! Walked right into that one…_ "Oh no you just—you—wait up, Godzilla! Gigantor! Jolly Green Giant! Big Bird! Freak!" Dean had continued the litany of tall jokes all the way up to the door, but try as he did, he just couldn't top his brother...no pun intended.

Upon opening the door, they were instantly greeted by the overwhelming scent of cigarette smoke mixed with alcohol. Dean thought Sam was about to retch right then and there, but Sam stifled his gagging – eventually – and soldiered on. After not but a few steps in, it seemed that every eye in the entire place fell upon them. Dean gave the leather-clad lot of them his best shit-eating grin and Sam's mouth twitched into a nervous smile and nod. Immediately whispering commenced, Dean overheard words and phrases like, 'pretty boys' and 'couple', and instantly felt the need to correct them on the latter assumption. "Hey!" he bellowed out and Sam visibly cringed from his brother's overly loud and attention-grabbing shout. "My brother here needs himself a tat!" Dean yelled, clapping Sam on the back to unnecessarily specify that he was his _brother_.

_Oh God, kill me now… _With all eyes now solely on him, Sam gave another small smile and had to repress another gag when a stout and stocky bleach blonde who incorrectly thought she could still buy from the petite section puckered her blindingly red lips at him. Sam was sure his face had nearly turned as red as her lips – or her caked-on blush, at least – and he quickly ducked his head down. _Dean is SO gonna pay for this… _

Dean noted with amusement that Sam's evasive action seemed to excite the woman even more. _Must like the shy guys… _Dean gave her a wink and mouthed 'He likes you' to her while none too discreetly pointing at Sam behind his back. _Yep, revenge is sweet…better 'midget man' than Blondie's boy toy! _

Sam approached the three chairs with lead feet, eyeing them with more trepidation than even a dentist's chair could ever cause him. A man whose pants and underwear were pulled down – as the tattoo was being placed square on his ass – already occupied one. Sam fought another nearly overwhelming wave of nausea, thinking of all the things that may have last touched where he was likely about to sit. A burly man with a goatee who was nearly as tall as Sam and looked like a human canvas stood behind one of the empty chairs with his arms crossed, staring at Sam incredulously. Sam was about to open his mouth to stammer out something hopefully coherent to the man when Dean mercifully came to his rescue.

"Butch, I presume?"

The man sniffed, still looking at them both like they were from another planet. He noticed the taller one was doing the same to him. "That'd be me," he growled.

"Awesome. Name's Dean, this is my brother, Sam. He's the one that gets the chair and your fine handiwork, not me," Dean quickly pointed out.

"Yer brother," Butch ground out. "That kid right thur." He pointed at Sam as if he were some inanimate object. "He wants a tattoo?"

"Yep," Dean said confidently.

Butch scratched his goatee and continued to stare down the taller boy, who looked like he was ready to bolt at any minute. "Girlfriend's name, kid?"

Dean noticed Sam tense right away on the word 'girlfriend' and immediately stepped in. "Nope, he's actually after somethin' different, here."

Sam stood stock still, eyes wide as saucers as Butch stepped closer to him, effectively invading his personal space, which Sam would've preferred to be somewhere between the size of Texas and China when it came to this guy. He fought the urge for either fight or flight as the man leaned in closer to his face.

"Can't yer kid brother talk, son? He got special needs or sumthin'?"

Dean shot a glare at the man before answering him. "Actually, my brother happened to go to Stanford if you've ever heard of that fine establishment. He's probably the smartest kid you'll ever meet." _Hell, he's probably the smartest _adult_ someone of _your _breed will ever meet… _"He's just a little nervous, never gotten a tattoo before."

'Obviously', Butch thought, still staring at Sam. "Aww, that so, kid? Well, we'll try to go easy on ya," he said with a flash of rotten teeth. "What kinda tat ya want, thur, beanpole?" he said, clapping Sam on the arm.

"Uh…I…m-my brother…he's got one and I…I need one just like his."

Butch laughed loudly. "Awww, that's real sweet thur, kid," he crooned, patting Sam lightly on the head. "Lemme guess, yer brother's got one half of a heart, an' you need the other, right?"

Dean, who had practically dug the heels of his boots into the dingy carpet to resist throttling the man for having touched his brother – twice! – without his permission, chose this moment to intervene again. "Not even close, pal," Dean bit out, quickly removing his right shoe and sock and thrusting his foot right in the obnoxious man's face. "_This_," he wiggled his foot, "is what Sam wants…exact same thing, right where I've got mine…bottom of the right foot. Got it?"

Butch eyed the marking curiously, and then relented. "Got it." He turned to Sam. "Have a seat thur, beanpole. An' you," he turned back to Dean, "have a seat in that other chair an' hold up that thur foot so I can have myself a guide."

"Will do," Dean said as Sam shrugged off his jacket and nervously sat down in the seat. Remembering how he'd only thrown on a thin button-up shirt that morning since all his t-shirts were dirty, he immediately wished he'd kept his jacket on upon Butch's shout of 'Hey, Lulu! Might need yer help with this one!' Somehow, Sam just knew that Lulu and Blondie were one in the same. She approached him with want in her eyes and drool practically coming out her mouth. Sam looked away from her, down to his now bare right foot, which had been briefly wiped with rubbing alcohol. Butch was now pinching at the skin where the tattoo would go. As Butch continued his preparations, Sam felt – not to mention smelled – Lulu approach him from behind. She put her hands on the back of the chair and leaned over Sam's head to talk to Butch. Sam didn't _dare _look up.

"Butch, ya needed me for this'n?"

"Yep, he's purty nervous accordin' to 'is brother, here. Try'n keep 'im calm while I do my work, don't want 'im jumpin' outta this chair an' boltin' like a jackrabbit in the middle of it all."

"My _pleasure_…" Lulu said, getting into Sam's line of vision. "What's yer name, thur, hunnybear?"

Sam tamped down the instinctual inclination _not _to respond to 'hunnybear'. "S-Sam, ma'am."

"Aw, so polite. What a sweet thing you are!" she crowed, pinching Sam's cheek between her chubby fingers. "Now don'tchu worry yer purty little head about this whole deal, Sam hunny. It'll be over with 'fore ya know it, ol' Butch gets 'er done real quick."

Sam nodded his head in acknowledgement of Lulu's words and then looked down to see what Butch was up to. He instantly wished he hadn't. Butch held the intimidating-looking needle instrument in his hand, ready to get to work, and Sam could only be thankful that he wasn't ticklish on the bottom of his feet. As soon as Sam felt the tip of the needle touch his skin, he felt the need to hold Butch up a few seconds longer. "Um, 'scuse me," Sam called out as loudly as his nervous voice could muster. "Is that thing sterile?"

Butch looked up at him and smirked. "As it's ever gonna be, kid."

Sam gulped involuntary, and then felt Lulu place her hands on his shoulders, causing him to again become conscious of how he only had one shirt on; how close she was to actually touching his skin. He immediately noticed how cold her hands were through the thin fabric. And then the voice of another female escaped from the void of his memory and played in his head.

'_I'm sorry, sweetheart. Using my powers sort of takes the heat right out of my hands.'_

As Lulu began to massage his shoulders and neck, upper back, and any other spot she could get her hands on to distract him from the work that Butch was doing, more memories of the other female came flooding back to Sam, only _she'd _had her hands all over his front instead of his back, up underneath the thin t-shirt he had put on to sleep in last night. While Lulu's touch was undoubtedly being flirtatious at the moment, the other woman's touch had been invasive, unsettling…wrong.

It was all coming back to him now; she had appeared in the room out of nowhere in a ball of dark light, he'd tried to get to the salt, but she'd slammed him against the wall – telekinetically. She'd put her hand over his mouth and that's when the unwelcome touching had began, then she'd dropped both hands and stroked his cheek, lifted up some wisps of his hair and put her lips to his ear, and then…nothing. Sam knew the woman he was remembering had to have been Dean's Odessa, and that the point where his memory faded must've been the onset of the sleep spell.

_'Sleep'…'Sweet dreams, Sammy'_

That was it! That's what she had whispered in his ear. But remembering his lost minutes didn't make Sam feel any more comfortable with what had happened. Not by a long shot. This Odessa had controlled him with only a touch, only a word. It terrified Sam. He looked over at Dean, who looked like he was dying to hogtie Lulu for enjoying her massaging of Sam _way _too much for Dean's comfort level, which was low to begin with. He thought back to the nightmare and Dean's confessions. He had seen the truth in his older brother's eyes last night; the woman hadn't violated Sam. But had Dean not been there, she likely would have. And there wouldn't have been a damn thing that Sam could've done about it. The thought turned his stomach.

And even scarier for Sam was the fact that _Dean_ hadn't been able to stop her from touching him last night; even with the tattoo, Dean had been incapacitated as well, just by only one of her powers. But said tattoo _did _give Dean protection from her touch – that was always a plus. And soon enough, Sam would be immune to her sick desires as well should she ever come back. That was definitely worth a needle in the foot and an obese blonde good-naturedly hitting on him.

Sam came out of his thoughts to find Butch staring at him, now empty handed, a shocked look on his face. _Oh God, did something go wrong? Is there a big hole in my foot, why is he looking at me like that? _"Wh-what? Is everything going all right?" Sam apprehensively questioned.

"'S'all good down here, kid. Yer all done."

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief. "I—I'm done? It's over, you got the thing on me?"

"Shore did, beanpole. Take a look'see for yerself." Butch held a small mirror to Sam's foot to allow him to see the mark. "Ya know, I gotta say, kid, ya were one'a my best customers yet. Didn't even make a peep the whole time."

Dean was quite surprised himself at this fact, but only beamed with pride at Sam as he put his shoe and sock back on. Just like his, Sam's mark was about the size of an average adult's thumbnail, placed in the center of his foot just below his toes. Perfect. _Up yours, Odessa… _Dean dug out his wallet to pay while he smiled and nodded his head as Butch rambled on about how 'in all his years, he had never seen such a subdued first-timer', about how Sam 'was even calmer than half the _third­_-timers he had worked on', and so on. He watched as Lulu spouted off congratulatory remarks and compliments toward Sam, ending with a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He marveled at the sheer strength of Sam's politeness, as he made no move to wipe off the kiss and forced a smile. He had to keep reminding himself that Lulu's actions toward Sam were nothing like Odessa's - the former was something he could tease Sam about later on, while he couldn't and _wouldn't_ ever tease him about the latter. Because that scenario was _anything _but laughable.

They left the tattoo parlor after Sam got one last crushing hug from Lulu and a hearty clap on the back from Butch with a 'Yore A-OK, thur, kid.' Dean pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the road to get back to the motel. He reached over and patted Sam on the knee. "Lookin' good, Sammy! See, it wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Sam only continued to stare out the window at the passing scenery – or lack thereof. "Hey, man, you okay?"

"I remembered, Dean," was Sam's only answer. "I remembered how it happened."

"Come again?"

"I remember now, everything that that Odessa woman did to me before she knocked me out with the sleep spell."

Dean's face fell. "Oh. Um…you're still okay, right? Nothin' worse than what I told you she'd done to you, was it?"

"No," Sam assured him. "Oddly enough, getting caught up in all those memories was probably the thing that helped me through getting that tattoo. Took my concentration off of it."

"Huh," Dean responded, then smirked. "You're sure it wasn't Lulu's massage-job distracting you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Positive." Sam was relieved that Dean wasted no time in teasing him about Lulu; it meant that things were going to be okay – despite the fact that Odessa was still out there. Sam had the protective tattoo now, so things would be getting back to normal. Sam didn't think he'd ever be saying this to himself, but… _thank God for Butch's Tattoo Parlor and Beer Joint! _

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Okay, I know, this is not EARLY afternoon, and I'm no longer gonna be promising specific times! The every-other-day thing still stands, but no guarantees of what time I'll be posting; I'll try to do it as early afternoon as possible, but sometimes things don't work out. S'all good though, I hope! Thanks as usual to my impeccable LLS for the beta! Hope everyone enjoyed and the usual thanks to my readers and reviewers, you keep me smiling :-D

A/N 2: BTW, I know NOTHING about getting tattoos, so hopefully this chapter worked in that aspect, too. LOL.


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I just don't get it. I got married to Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles was the best man, and Eric Kripke gave me _Supernatural_ as a wedding present! But every time I tell the men in the white coats these facts, they just pat me on the head and lock me in that weird room with the cushiony walls…am I missing something?

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ is fair game, as this chapter will efficiently prove!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Sam was relieved that Dean wasted no time in teasing him about Lulu; it meant that things were going to be okay – despite the fact that Odessa was still out there, Sam had the protective tattoo now, so things would be getting back to normal. Sam didn't think he'd ever be saying this to himself, but… _thank God for Butch's Tattoo Parlor and Beer Joint!

**Chapter 9**

Dean – still in his jacket and work boots – lay on the bed channel surfing away as Sam did more research on the laptop, intent on learning everything he could about humanoid familiars, other than the major facts that Dean and their Dad's journal had already told him. As with most of the things they hunted, the majority of the websites he came across listed the creatures as only mythical, but he did come across a couple of good ones that considered the possibility that they could be real.

"Once lowly creatures…now highly evolved…powers of mind control…telekinesis…"Sam muttered to himself as he read. _Huh. _He was starting to think these things sounded like the all-powerful versions of the psychics like him. He had encountered two with mind control – Andy Gallagher and his corrupted brother, Ansem Weems – and one telekinetic-gone-bad, Max Miller. Hell, there was a possibility that Sam himself could be telekinetic! He went on to read that humanoid familiars could appear and disappear into thin air and even freeze time, among other things. _Okay, maybe they're not so much like us psychics, after all…unless we just haven't yet met the psychics who can do that kinda thing. _Sam highly doubted the latter thought, though.

He scrolled down to the end of the page, thinking it odd that nothing about the protective symbol he and Dean bore was mentioned. He also saw that the website didn't mention how they sacrificed a child every tenth spring solstice and showed no way to defeat the creatures. _Well, these amateur, skeptic websites aren't our Dad… _Sam smiled fondly and wistfully. His musings were interrupted by Dean loudly complaining.

"Man! There is like nothin' whatsoever on TV right now, it's freakin' ridiculous."

Sam shook his head and turned around to face his distraught sibling. "Dean, it's not that there's nothing on TV, it's just that that particular appliance you're watching only gets four channels."

"Yeah, and they're boring ones!" Dean huffed out, throwing down the remote in exasperation. "So how 'bout you, Sparky? Found anything exciting over there?"

"Knowing _your _definition of exciting websites, definitely not." Sam said before yawning and rising from the cramped table and chair.

"Hey, nothin' wrong with some busty Asian beauties every now and again, Sammy," Dean defended but quickly realized his error. "Um, I meant…I know nothing about that kinda thing."

"Uh huh. So the Trickster wasn't quite responsible for _everything_," Sam said knowingly, smiling as his brother gaped like a fish out of water. He sat down on the edge of his own bed and took off his socks, being careful with his newly inked right foot. The precautionary bandage that Butch had put over the tattoo had been allowed to come off by now and thankfully no infection had set in. 'Guess the needle was sterile, after all,' Sam reasoned. Taking another glance at the mark and finding all was well with it, he exhaled tiredly and sprawled himself across the mattress, wanting to properly stretch his long arms and legs before forcing himself back up again to change into his nightclothes.

Dean finally flicked the TV off in anger at the lack of channels to surf. What good was the manager having fixed the TV that morning when the number of channels it had could be counted on one hand? Shooting one last glare at the offending idiot box, he turned to look at his brother. "So…how's the tat doin'…_hunnybear_?"

Sam immediately forgot about the uncomfortable chill he had just experienced and, knowing that anything he said would probably be unheard over Dean's fit of laughter, flipped his older brother the bird.

It only made Dean laugh even more until, about a minute later, he finally reined in his hysterics and cleared his throat. "Seriously, Sammy, there's nothin' bad…afoot?" _Yeah, just couldn't resist that one… _And to his surprise, the bad pun actually made Sam crack a little smile.

"No…nothing's afoot…s'all good."

"Awesome. You and I are officially untouchable when it comes to that bitch." Dean watched Sam relax and stretch out even further at that comfort, then noted with amusement how all four of Sam's fully extended limbs hung off the edge of the bed. But no matter how big the kid got – and Dean didn't think he could get much bigger, or at least _hoped_ not – he would always be Dean's _little _brother.

Dean looked on as said big little brother drew in his arms and legs and raised himself into a sitting position. "Bed too small for ya, there, Sasquatch?" he teased with a smirk. It dissipated into a concerned gaze as Sam still sat unmoving, un-answering. "Sammy?" A chill went through Dean as Sam turned a pair of wide, fearful eyes on him.

"Dean…I think Odessa's here."

"What? Where?!" Dean demanded. "I don't see her…"

"There!" Sam shouted, pointing frantically to the center of the room to the same floating dark orb he had remembered from the last night.

Dean's eyes followed Sam's indication and he cursed loudly, barely having enough time to leap off the bed and assume a protective stance in front of his younger brother before the orb transformed into an evilly grinning Odessa.

"Sammy always was the smart one, wasn't he, Dean?" she crooned and then began to casually approach the brothers. "Beauty _and_ brains, plus he's a total sweetheart…what more could a girl like me want in _her_ man…"

"You sick bitch, he's NOT yours and he never WILL be!" Dean shouted angrily, spreading out his arms to keep Sam safely behind him and slowly backing them both away from Odessa.

"Oh, Dean…" she scolded. "Unless you've gotten rid of that pesky protection tattoo and are no longer…how did you put it…_untouchable_…OUT OF MY WAY!" she yelled with a wave of her hand that sent Dean crashing into the wall, giving her complete access to her new favorite plaything. "Ah…my sweet Sammy. You know, I've been dreaming all day about what I would do to you tonight…and I can't wait any longer." A lecherous smile split her face as she reached out a hand toward Sam's face.

_Go on, you bitch…touch away! _Sam consciously wiggled the toes of his right foot as Odessa's hand neared his cheek.

As soon as her fingertips met Sam's skin, Odessa shrieked out in pain and backpedaled away from him, doubling over and staring up at him in shock. "You…you—"

"Got inked," Sam finished and then turned around to triumphantly display the symbol of Helios on the bottom of his right foot.

"NOOO!" Odessa wailed, backing further away and clutching at her fingers. She glanced behind her at the small table she had run into and flung the glass ashtray that lay on it to the floor in rage. It shattered upon impact. "This is NOT over, Dean Winchester! I will have what I desire, I will have your baby brother and you will suffer his loss!" she screamed at Dean and then turned and ran out of the motel door.

"Oh no you DON'T!" Dean barked, snatching the spear from its resting place and bolting out the door after her, not even bothering to shut it behind him. "Sammy, stay there!" Dean ordered over his shoulder.

"Dean, no!" Sam shouted after him, also moving to follow until his bare feet hit the broken glass and he yelped out in pain. He stumbled backwards onto Dean's bed and immediately checked his right foot to make sure the glass hadn't broken the skin where the tattoo was. None had. As he was picking out the tiny shards that had managed to stick into his feet, he heard a man clearing his throat from somewhere in front of him, followed by the door slamming shut.

Before Sam could even scream for help, a strong arm jerked his head back by his hair and he felt a sharp prick in his neck. The arm then roughly shoved him off the edge of the bed and as he lay face-up on the floor, Sam felt numbness invade his entire body. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the three increasingly blurry figures hovering over his defenseless form before a cruel kick to the side of his face snapped his head to the side and sent him into blackness.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Oh man, (grovels), please go easy, so sorry for the cliffhanger, it had to be done, _remember_ – EVERY OTHER DAY UPDATES!!! LOL. And another later-in-the-day post…it was a site glitch this time! (sighs) Anyways…so, yeah, if ya'll thought it was over and the boys were safe – think again! Still several more chapters and much more conflict to come, heehee! The utmost gratitude to all my readers, and to all my reviewers? You all make my every-other-day! LOL. And a great big hug and thanks to my LLS for the beta, and speaking of…

A/N 2: If you all go back to Chapter 8, there have been some minor changes made to it b/c it _was_ betaed after all! A common-sense_less_ mistake of mine caused me to accidentally overlook my freshly-betaed piece in my inbox and I posted before I finally discovered it waiting there, like it had been ALL DAY! LOL. But it's all fixed now with the proper credit paid in full to my LLS for all her awesome work. So, thanks for that one too, LLS, and allow me to replace those apologies from you with ones from me…'twas my error, not yours! It's all good now though :-D


	10. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: And now…a poem. Ahem: "Crossroads demons' eyes glow red, a djinn's hands glow blue, I don't own _Supernatural_…but neither do you!" …Unless your name is Eric Kripke of course, and if it is…PLEASE SEND ME A PM!!! LOL.

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ throughout the whole story has potential.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Before Sam could even scream for help, a strong arm jerked his head back by his hair and he felt a sharp prick in his neck. The arm then roughly shoved him off the edge of the bed and as he lay face-up on the floor, Sam felt numbness invade his entire body. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the three increasingly blurry figures hovering over his defenseless form before a cruel kick to the side of his face snapped his head to the side and sent him into blackness._

**Chapter 10**

Adrenaline and anger pumped through Dean's veins as he raced through a lightly wooded area about five minutes running distance away from the motel in pursuit of Odessa. He was wondering why she didn't just disappear and make her own life a lot easier, but really, he didn't care. He didn't _want _her life to be any form of easy after she had threatened Sam like she did…and these musings didn't slow his pace down by a second. He noticed that he now had a clear shot at Odessa's retreating back should he decide to throw the spear. And with a vivid recollection of the terror in his baby brother's expressive eyes as Dean had been recounting what the bitch had done to him, Dean decided that there was no longer any '_should_' about it. He steadied his aim and reared back his arm to fire when Odessa abruptly halted and spun around with her hand raised, sending Dean on the typical annoying flight through the air, straight into a tree trunk. Again, the spear was knocked out of his hand upon impact.

"DAMN IT, bitch! If you freakin' do that to me one more time, I'll—"

"Oh, you don't look like you're in any position to make threats, Dean," Odessa scoffed. "You're motionless, weaponless…and you're about to be brotherless."

"You think so?" Dean snarled. "You just try turning your back on me, you bitch, and see if I don't stick that spear into it in a hot second, 'cause I'm not about to let you get three steps closer to my brother...hell, make that _one _step."

Odessa cackled ominously. "Oh, Dean, you _are_ just too _gullible_! And here I thought it was too good to be true," she croaked, mimicking wiping a tear from her eye. "Fine, Dean. I won't even TRY to get near your precious Sammy again tonight…" She shrugged her shoulders. "I won't."

Dean smirked. "You mean you CAN'T!" He clearly remembered Odessa's howl upon touching Sam's skin. "Some tattoo, huh…hurts like a mother, don't it, babe?"

"Yes…about that, Dean…" she drawled out with a wicked glint in her eye. "I'm quite the actress, aren't I?"

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion. "What the hell's that supposed to mean…?"

"THIS," Odessa thrust her fingertips toward Dean's eyes, "is what that's supposed to mean!" She waved her hand from side to side tauntingly. "Notice anything strange, Dean? Or…is it what you _don't _notice that's strange?"

"Spit it out, bitch!" Dean snapped.

"Fine," Odessa relented, dropping her hand. "To use your words, Dean, NO, it DIDN'T 'hurt like a mother'…you know why?" She put her fingers in his face again. "Because it didn't burn. Because I faked it! …Because your stupid tattoos_ don't work._"

Dean's heart leapt into his throat. "What—"

"_What _did I just say, Dean?!" she exploded. "The little tattoos that you and Sammy have on the bottom of your feet – real cute, by the way – DON'T. WORK. They never have…not even yours…and you've had it a long time, haven't you?"

"If you're so sure mine's never worked before, that it isn't working now…then why don't you touch me? Why did you freakin' _burn _when you touched me thirteen years ago?!"

Odessa shook her head pityingly. "You really don't get it, do you, Dean?" She sauntered away from him and then spun back around. "It's so true…when your baby brother is involved, all common sense goes out the window, doesn't it?" She laughed at his indignant glare and began to pace back and forth as she set him straight. "Yes, Dean, I burned thirteen years ago when you touched me, and if I were to touch you right now, I would burn again. But not by the power of that puny tattoo…because it HAS no power!" She turned to look him directly in the eye. "The only reason that you and _ONLY_ you are immune to almost all of my onslaughts is because you wounded me with the spear all those years ago! It forged a bond between us, Dean, a bond between you and my kind…and certainly not a symbiotic one! You can still hurt us, but we can't hurt you. _I _can't hurt you! …Unless I'd ever be fortunate enough to have something fatal to throw you into or off of…but no such luck, thus far." Odessa clenched her fists in anger. "I mean, I can't even shoot or stab you because nothing touched by my hands can penetrate your skin! And the only _defense_ I have against you is my telekinetic abilities!" She dug her heels into the ground and started to calm herself down with slow, steady breaths. "I was thankfully left with that one bit of help since your strike didn't kill me, Dean…but other than that, my kind and I are easy prey for a ruthless hunter like you," Odessa sighed, hanging her head in mock-defeat. When she raised it back up, a feral smile lit up her eyes and face. "_That's _where your adorable little brother comes in, Dean."

"Screw you, bitch," Dean ground out, murder in his eyes.

"Well, I'm hoping I might be able to make your brother do that later on," she chirped. "I mean, I _have_ always wanted to try robbing the cradle, but…we're getting ahead of ourselves, here."

"I am gonna kill you, you sick monster, I swear to God I—"

"Promises, promises, Dean," Odessa cut in. "Now, where were we…ah, yes. Sweet little Sammy's role in all this…and, my, he's such a natural for it. What with those wide, soulful eyes and that sensitive young heart of his…he's perfect for it."

"For _what?!_"

"For your downfall, Dean!" Odessa shouted, and then softened her tone. "You know, it's ironic, really. You love him so much, more than anything else in the world, I've witnessed it…it's quite touching. And yet, he's the _only _thing in the world that can crush you. That's another thing I've noticed, you see." She licked her lips and walked closer to her captive. "I mean, all he has to do is turn that puppy-dog look on you and it becomes all about his will, not yours…am I right? Now, of course, he doesn't abuse the privilege, he's far too caring to do that. And that's another thing about him. That pure heart of his – you try so hard to preserve that, don't you? To keep that innocence intact…and with so much darkness in the world, that's a full-time job, isn't it? But you get right between that boy and the darkness without a thought, correct? No matter how dark it is, no matter what the case…Sammy always comes first. In fact…if you had to make a choice between saving him or saving the rest of the world, I'll bet Sammy would come out the winner, wouldn't he?" She laughed when Dean didn't answer. "I'll take that silence as a 'yes'. And I know why…because Sammy _IS _the world to you, isn't he, Dean?" Silence again. "That's nice, you know, Dean, your love for your baby brother is beautiful, it really is. But there's just one, _tiiiiiiny_ problem that it poses for you…that being that Sammy is mortal, Dean. _Mortal_, just like you…and me as well, though in a lesser dose thanks to those tasty children," Odessa sneered smugly and turned on her heel to meander about as she kept on. "Now, if all goes as it should, he'll probably outlive you, being as you are the _older _brother. But…what if something happens to him, Dean? Whatever would you have done if instead of going through that whole pretentious scenario tonight, I had just waltzed right over to Sammy and snapped his pretty neck…hmmm? Please tell me, Dean, I'm dying to know."

"I would've killed you deader than dead and then personally made sure you were burning in the hottest circle of hell."

"And _then_ what, Dean?" Again, he had no answer, as Odessa anticipated. "Nothing, right?" She waited a few beats, and then crowed victoriously. "And _there_ you have it, folks! Dean Winchester – unstoppable fighter for good, slayer of all things evil in the supernatural realm – HAS a stopping point, after all…his beloved little brother. Because the mighty hunter's life means _nothing _without his Sammy by his side." Her nose nearly touched Dean's as she finished her sermon, her eyes boring into his. "Which leads us to the ultimate conclusion that our hero would do _anything _and _everything _in his power to save the kid…_as we're about to find out_."

Dean's eyes burned with hate; he couldn't wait to shut this bitch up once and for all. "Ya know, in all your crazed ranting, I think you forgot something, bitch…you'll be shish kabob before you ever even lay eyes, _let alone _your hands, on my brother again. I can guarantee it."

Odessa only chuckled at Dean's threat. "I don't doubt that, Dean… But, here's the thing. Remember when I said I wasn't even going to try to touch Sammy again tonight? And then you went on to say I couldn't because of the tattoo and etcetera, etcetera…but we've already cleared all that up. What we _haven't _yet cleared up, Dean, is that I won't touch Sammy…because I don't HAVE to," she cryptically supplied.

"What do you mean you don't _have _to…?" Dean queried, a hint of anxiety creeping into his voice.

Odessa grinned and continued to lead Dean on. "You surprise me, Dean, you know that? You're always so infallible when it comes to protecting Sammy; it just shocks the mind that you would leave him behind in that motel room all worried, all confused, all… _alone_." She drank in the horror that flooded Dean's eyes upon the last word as he swallowed convulsively.

"But…but you're out here—"

"_While_ some of my friends – the very last three of my kind, no less – are _in there_…with your helpless little brother." She could practically hear Dean's stomach drop. She watched with pleasure as the unadulterated fear for the boy he had grown up with, kept safe, and loved more than life itself burst across Dean's handsome features. "That was a valiant chase you gave to keep me away from Sammy, you know…but I was never the danger," Odessa cooed. "I was only the _distraction_."

_No…no no no nono, Sammy, oh God, Sammy, _"SAMMY!" Dean wailed. He broke loose from Odessa's hold upon the panicked cry, or Odessa released him from it – he couldn't tell which one. Nor did he care. Only three words were on Dean's mind as he snatched the spear, scrambled to his feet, and took off back in the direction of the motel at a breakneck pace – _RUN…SAVE…SAMMY! _He ignored the taunting shouts of Odessa from behind him.

"You can run, Dean, but your baby brother couldn't hide…HE'S AS GOOD AS GONE!"

TBC…

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A/N: Uh, does that count as a cliffhanger too? LOL. (grins innocently) Bet you're all glad that I update regularly, heehee! PsiChic, my sincere gratitude and all my Long-Lost-Sisterly love for the beta work…what would I do without ya? And don't say 'crash and burn' b/c we don't want the YED coming after you, LOL. And hugs to all my readers! Hope you all enjoyed/are enjoying, and reviews are cherished; I do so love and appreciate hearing from you :-D


	11. Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Supernatural_, the Winchester boys, an Impala, a hunting journal, or any hunting weaponry…but I do own my laptop and a brown leather jacket! And that's probably as close to Sam and Dean as I'm ever gonna manage to get…

SPOILERS: Anything that happened before _Folsom Prison Blues_ may happen to be in this story!

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**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Only three words were on Dean's mind as he snatched the spear, scrambled to his feet, and took off back in the direction of the motel at a breakneck pace – _RUN…SAVE…SAMMY! _He ignored the taunting shouts of Odessa from behind him._

"_You can run, Dean, but your baby brother couldn't hide…HE'S AS GOOD AS GONE!"_

**Chapter 11**

Dean Winchester had never run faster in his life than he was running now. Every muscle in his body ached from the exertion and his lungs were threatening to call it quits. Sweat poured down his face and dripped into his eyes, compromising his vision as well. But Dean was completely ignorant of the numerous protests his body was launching. His mind dominated everything; it was focused, with only those same three words coursing through it as a mantra. Especially the last word – _Sammy_. The word that Dean had placed forever in his heart – the only _other_ organ driving the rest of his body – at the age of four.

"_Dean, come over here, sweetheart…there's someone Daddy and I want you to meet," Mary Winchester whispered, careful not to disturb the precious bundle of pink skin and blankets in her arms._

"_Mommy…" Dean's eyes grew wide with excitement and a hint of anxiousness. "Is that…is that the baby? Did the doctors get him outta you okay? We can see him for real now?"_

_John chuckled warmly beside his inquisitive son. "Yep, Dean-o, we can. No more funny-looking ultrasound pictures…even though they _were_ real," he added with an amused smile._

"_But now he looks like us since he's outta Mommy, right?"_

"_Well, he may not look exactly like us yet…he's very small…and very pink and a bit wrinkly still. But yes, he has eyes and ears and a nose and mouth, arms and legs, fingers and toes, everything we have…except hair, for now," the proud father of once one, now two, answered._

"_Will_ _he get some hair someday?" Dean asked, taking slow, quiet steps toward his mother. _

"_Sure he will…lots of it, I bet." John gently ushered Dean in the direction of his mother and the newest addition to their family. "Go on over, Dean. Your little brother's waiting."_

_Mary watched Dean's face light up at the words 'little brother'. Because those words made him a big brother, and she knew that was a role that was going to make him happy. Her firstborn held his breath with anticipation as she gently lowered her arms to his eye level to allow him to see and touch her new baby boy. "Dean… this is Sammy."_

_Dean carefully reached his hand out toward the baby's as he spoke to him for the first time. "Hi, Sammy…I'm Dean, I'm your big brother." He waited for a response, but the baby's eyes remained closed. Dean turned an imploring gaze on his mother. "Mommy, did he hear me?"_

"_I'm sure he did, Dean," Mary comforted softly. "He's just—" She stopped speaking when she heard a small gasp from her eldest son and beamed when she saw what had caused it._

"_Mommy, look, he grabbed my finger!" Dean excitedly exclaimed. He looked back down at the baby and saw the most wonderful sight he'd ever seen – a pair of alert and warm hazel eyes staring directly into his. The tiny fingers tightened their grasp. Dean's little brother had just said his first hello. "Sammy!" Dean cried joyously. The baby gurgled in acknowledgement, and Dean placed his hand on top of the smaller one that held the forefinger of his other hand. "Hi, Sammy…I'm here, I'm here, Sammy." _

_Dean had decided right then and there that 'Sammy' was and always would be the most important word in his vocabulary._

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted as the motel finally came into his sights. "SAMMY!" he repeated, hoping beyond hope that his brother was still there and could hear and get to him somehow before something happened. As fast as his worn out legs could still carry him, he made his way around the front of the motel to the back where their room was located. As he rounded the final corner, Dean suddenly tripped over a large mass lying on the ground. He regained his footing quickly and turned around to discover that what had sent him tumbling was a man, lying on his side, now moaning.

"Sam!" Dean rushed to the man's side, but his relief was dashed when he turned the man face-up. Staring groggily back at him was a fifty, possibly _sixty_-something man with a weathered face, light brown eyes, and a scraggly gray beard with similar hair. Definitely not Sam. The man appeared to be fine, probably just some drunk who had passed out. Dean quickly concealed the spear under his jacket. He didn't have time for this. "Hey, look buddy, I'll call the front desk and they can call a cab for you if you need it, but I don't have—"

"Please," the man suddenly begged. "I'm not drunk, I was knocked out…I tried to stop 'em from takin' that boy, but I couldn't, they—"

"Boy? What boy?" Dean immediately cut in. "Who are 'they', what did the boy they took look like?"

"I…I don't know who took 'im. Men…three of 'em…tried to stop 'em."

"Yeah, I know, I know. Can you tell me what the boy looked like? Please," Dean implored fearfully.

"He was young…prob'ly early twenties, good-lookin' kid…tall n' thin, long dark hair…wearin' worn-out jeans an' a white n' blue striped button-up shirt…barefoot."

Upon the 'long dark hair' revelation, Dean's already fracturing world completely shattered. He didn't need any more confirmation. _Sammy… _He was too late. Odessa's goons, or relatives, _whatever_, had gotten to his baby brother first. Tears filled Dean's eyes as the man continued to describe the boy that he now knew was Sam. The boy whom he needed no description of.

"And uh, I dunno if this'll help much more," the man pushed himself into a sitting position, "but he had this black rubber band thing 'round 'is wrist, right one, I'm thinkin'."

_God…Sammy…no… _Dean dreaded the answer to his next question, but it was one he had to ask. He had to know. "Thanks, you have helped, but…if you can remember, from what you could see…was my— _the boy_…was he hurt, in any way?" _God, please let him say 'no'… _Dean knew it was wishful thinking.

The man thought for a moment – what seemed like an eternity to Dean – then finally answered. "He…he had a bruise on 'is cheek, looked like a fresh one…other'n that, he seemed to be okay, 'cept for the fact he was unconscious, of course."

Dean breathed an inaudible sigh of relief; the male familiars hadn't seriously injured Sam…or worse. It could've even been just another sleep spell.

"But them people, them three men…they were treatin' the poor kid real rough. The whole thing looked awful suspicious to me at first, them guys were carryin' 'im out, laughin' n' stuff, and there was that bruise on 'is face, didn't look right to me, ya know? An' the way they were carryin' 'im…one had 'is legs, 'nother had 'is shoulders, his arms were just hangin' down n' floppin' all over the place, head was lollin' all about…like they didn't give a damn about the boy, ya know? An' like I said, that damn bruise…"

"Yeah, go on," Dean encouraged when the man paused for too long. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Well, yeah, I confronted 'em…asked 'em what they were doin' with the boy…bastards said the kid was drunk an' they were takin' 'im back to their apartment…yeah, right. Asked 'em how the kid got 'is bruise, they said he fell when he passed out an' then they told me to shove off. I could tell they were lyin' just by lookin' at that kid…didn't seem like the 'get dead drunk' type…had an innocence about 'im, ya know?"

On the inside, Dean smiled wistfully. _That's my Sammy… _Tears once again filled his eyes. "Yeah…I do know. Anything else…even the smallest thing, it'll help."

"Well, now comes the biggest thing. I didn't trust those guys, thought they were gonna hurt or kill that poor kid, or even rape 'im or somethin', ya never can tell with sickos these days…but anyways, I followed 'em. They took 'im around to a car an' I realized that they were gonna toss 'im in the trunk, sick bastards…an' that's when I tried to stop 'em, but you know how well that went…no tellin' what they're gonna do to that poor boy now…or what they've already done." The man sighed somberly and shook his head, then looked at Dean. "Say, who'm I talkin' to, anyway? You a cop or somethin'?"

Dean thought fast. "Yeah, I am." He dug out his wallet and produced one of his many fake IDs, the one proclaiming him to be an officer of the law, specifically. "Officer Brian Johnson, Chicago Police Department. I'm undercover with the Missing Persons Unit. The young man you told us about is a kidnap victim, disappeared about a week ago. Been tracking him, got a lead that the suspects might be in this town and split up to search different local motels. I was hoping we'd finally nail those bastards but, if all else, at least we know where they've been and that the kid's still alive, thank God."

"Yeah…hope he stays that way. Ya know, you don't look too much older than that kid yourself," the man stated, eyeing Dean curiously.

"Well, uh, thanks…I started kinda early in the force. Hey, um, one more thing that could really be a big help to this case…do you remember what the car they were getting ready to take the kid in looked like? I mean, I know it was dark and that it was right before you got conked out, but…every little bit, ya know?"

"Well, it was a recent-model car, Ford Taurus, I'm thinkin', dark red. But I can do ya better than that…I got their plate number."

Dean could've hugged the man right then and there. He took out a piece of paper and a pen to write the information down, but the man promptly snatched both items and did it himself. Dean didn't care, just as long as he got it.

"That's it. Find that plate an' hopefully you'll find them an' that boy."

"I can't thank you enough, Mr.—"

"Bennett…Dusty Bennett. No thanks necessary…helpin' an old man up'd be most appreciated, though."

Dean gladly obliged him. "Thank you again, Mr. Bennett. Can I ask, though, what's this phone number you wrote down underneath the plate number?"

Dusty brushed himself off and looked Dean in the eye. "That's _my _phone number, Officer Johnson. I'd appreciate it if ya'd give me a call should ya ever find that boy. Don't know what it is about 'im, but I jus' feel an attachment to the kid, somehow. Wanna know if he makes it outta this awful mess okay…'til then I'll keep him and ya'll that're searchin' for 'im in my prayers."

"You're a good man, Mr. Bennett. I'll call, God willing things turn out okay. And I promise that I— _we _are gonna do everything in our power and then some to find Sa— _this kid _and bring him back safe." _Move the heavens and earth or walk through hell if need be… Anything._

"Good luck, Officer," Dusty bade farewell with a handshake. He watched from the shadows as the young man broke from a casual walk into a full-blown run toward the motel room he had seen the boy carried out of earlier. This night wasn't the first night he'd seen either of them. And from the other times he'd seen them, – _together_ – he knew what a devastating blow the older boy had just been dealt. "Good luck findin' your little brother," he whispered sadly and then walked out into the night.

TBC…

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A/N: Well, for all of you wanting to know whether or not the terrible trio had taken Sammy…now you know! Though I doubt it's making you feel any better! LOL. And our youngest Winchester is still a mite out of it right now, so that's why we haven't heard from him in a while… But we will again soon, I promise; I could never go very long without my boy, heehee! Thanks a million to my LLS for the beta and the same to all my readers! Your reviews make me so happy! LOL, sorry, I'm just in such a giggly mood from watching _Bad Day at Black Rock_ and Jared's bumbling, stumbling, dejected-Sammy-shoe-losing comic tour-de-force, LOLOL. LOVED that episode :-D

A/N 2: By the way, Brian Johnson is a vocalist for AC/DC…pretty sure that alias would get the Dean Winchester seal of approval! LOL.


	12. Chapter 12

DISCLAIMER: Well, last Christmas, I admit to asking Santa for _Supernatural_ and the boys. And it _was_ working…'til the plans I had for the boys and myself were discovered and got me put on the naughty list…LOL. I'll just have to try again this year…

SPOILERS: Another one of those chapters that present a shining example of how everything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ is fair game.

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**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"Good luck, Officer," Dusty bade farewell with a handshake. He watched from the shadows as the young man broke from a casual walk into a full-blown run toward the motel room he had seen the boy carried out of earlier. This night wasn't the first night he'd seen either of them. And from the other times he'd seen them, – _together_ – he knew what a devastating blow the older boy had just been dealt. "Good luck findin' your little brother," he whispered sadly and then walked out into the night._

**Chapter 12 **

Dean burst into the motel room to find a familiar horror come true – Sam was indeed gone – taken against his will yet again. In the short time that Sam had been back with him, this had already happened twice, once as a result of the Benders, a deranged family who decided that it would be fun to hunt his little brother down like an animal, and the other courtesy of Meg – or at least _the demon_ formerly known as Meg – culminating in a terrifying possession that left Dean with another bullet wound and Sam dealing with even _more_ guilt and unease about his future.

Now, without any psycho hillbillies or vengeful demon-daughters in sight, Sam was gone again. But at least those two scenarios had ended as well as they could – with Sam (not to mention Dean himself) alive. Dean had been beyond relieved, but he also couldn't deny the very real possibility that the next time Sam was taken from him – and God he had hoped with all his heart that there wouldn't _be _a next time – he might not ever see his baby brother again, he might not get him back alive. And now he was scared shitless that this might be that time. That he might not be able to— _no. _NO. Dean had assured Sam that nothing bad would happen to him while he was around, he had promised Sam that he would save him no matter what it took. And he meant every single word he'd said. Odessa was not going to win and he was sure as hell going to get Sam back safe and sound. There was no acceptable alternative.

"Miss him already, don't you, Dean?"

_Damn, speak of the she-devil! _Dean whirled around to find Odessa staring at him with a sickening look of mock-sympathy on her face. "You disgusting bitch, WHERE THE HELL IS HE?! WHAT'VE YOU SICK FREAKS DONE TO HIM?!" he roared, whipping the spear from his jacket and aiming it at Odessa.

"Uh-ah-ah…you kill me, my friends kill your precious Sammy. Slowly, painfully…messily. Got it, Dean?" she warned sharply.

Dean swallowed thickly and lowered the spear. "What do you want with him, Odessa? Why are you doing this to him when he never did a _thing_ to you?" he bit out.

"You STILL don't get it, do you?!" Odessa snarled, stamping her foot angrily and impatiently. "This isn't about Sam, Dean! It's about _you_. Because you're the one who wounded me thirteen years ago, because you're the one whom I witnessed killing another one of my kind months ago, because _you're _the one who has the potential to drive us to extinction!" She grit her teeth, breathed in deeply, and lowered her voice to a menacing tone. "Understand, Dean. In this game, dear sweet Sammy is just as innocent as he looks. And as much as I'd like to keep such a pretty thing as him for myself, he is nothing more to me than simple, expendable _leverage_. As long as we have him, you'll do everything I say, Dean Winchester. Because if you don't, if you so much as step one foot out of line, you will never see your baby brother alive again. Have I made myself clear, Dean, or do I need to go into details about how my friends will take a knife to poor little Sammy and slowly cut into his skin—"

"Stop it."

" – and when the floor is covered with enough of his blood, they'll bring the knife up to his neck—"

"Shut up!"

" – and slice his throat wide open—"

"SHUT UP!"

" – and as his young life bleeds out of him, his last thoughts will be of you, his big brother…right before that lovely light that defines the boy goes out of his eyes for—"

"_SHUT THE HELL UP!!!_" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Then I guess we are indeed clear…aren't we?" she finished with a teasing smirk.

"Wh—what do you want me to do?" Dean conceded quietly.

Odessa gave a satisfied smile. "Finally...we're getting somewhere. You hold Sammy's life in your hands, Dean. Did you know that? And I mean it quite literally."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked apprehensively. He looked down at his hands, and then he answered his own question. "This is about the spear, isn't it?"

"DING, DING, DING!" Odessa crowed. "We have a winner!" Again, she lowered her voice. "But you don't get your prize quite yet…your prize being a living, breathing, unharmed Sammy, of course. You're gonna have to work for it. But quite ironically – and luckily – for you, some of your work is already done…because you have the spear."

"What do you want with it?"

"I want it destroyed," she replied bluntly. "But since none of my kind can touch it, as you know…_you _will have to take care of that."

"Fine. It's done, I'll do it, just let Sam go…please." Rare weapon or not, it wasn't worth Sam's life. _Nothing_ was.

Odessa laughed mockingly. "Well! The steadfast warrior son of the late, great John Winchester _begs_…my, how the mighty have fallen. What a delightful weakness you have in your baby brother, Dean. If only your father could see you now…" She paused. "Oh, wait! Silly me, I forgot…_Sammy_ was John's son as well! Guess he'd have done the same for the kid," she sneered. "Anyway…where were _we_, Dean?"

"I _said _I would destroy the spear for you," Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

"Fine. But that's not enough, Dean. I happen to know that are _two_ spears remaining. You have one, obviously, but someone else has the other and—"

"_Obviously_," Dean mimicked sarcastically under his breath.

Odessa wasn't deaf. Nor was she amused. "Do you think this is something to be joking about, Dean? Do you not take me seriously, because if you don't, I can contact my friends right now and have them pull over, drag Sam out of the trunk, and just beat him into a bloody pulp on the pavement!"

"No, I—"

"How would you feel if you had to mop your dear little brother's remains off the side of the highway like road kill and bury him in a bucket because there wasn't enough of him left for a casket?"

"NO! I—I'm sorry, I'm sorry…it won't happen again," Dean surrendered.

_He begs AND apologizes…a red letter day… _"That's better," Odessa said smugly. "Now, as I was saying before I was so _rudely interrupted_." She shot Dean another warning glare before continuing. "Someone else has the other spear. Your task is to find out who it is and bring said spear to me. Once you do, you will destroy both spears as I watch, so that I may assure that you've pulled no tricks. Fail to do any of this, and sweet young Sammy will never see his twenty-fourth birthday. Try any deception, and I will hold you to the wall and make you watch as my friends torture and bleed your baby brother to death. Fulfill all that I ask…and Sammy will be given back to you, alive and in one piece."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the woman – no, _creature_ – in front of him. "How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know you won't hurt him?"

"Dean!" Odessa looked shocked. "I'd have to be a raving idiot to hurt Sammy before I got what I wanted. I'd have no leverage…of course I won't hurt him."

"And what about after?"

Dean didn't look surprised when Odessa hesitated with her reply. Little did he know that she was merely savoring this moment; it was all going according to her plans. _Make the vow; break the vow…break the mighty hunter into a million scattered pieces. _"Dean, after you do these things for me, I will have no reason to harm Sam," she stated in her most serious voice. "The spears will be gone. You will no longer be a threat to me or my kind, so why should I any longer be a threat to your brother? I mean, that would just make me a sore winner, and that's not my style." She drew a slow, indulgent breath. _Make 'em and break 'em… _"I give you my word, Dean Winchester, do as I've asked you, and I will let Sam go, completely unharmed. I will let you both go. Neither of you will receive another threat from me or my kind again."

Dean still looked wary. "Why should I trust you…?"

Odessa's eyes lit up with success at the question. "_Because_, Dean…if you want to save Sammy…you have no choice."

Dean stood numb in the center of the small motel room, staring at the creature who had ripped his world – his _Sammy_ – away from him. And now to get him back, Dean was going to have to help her and her kind, help to destroy the only objects that could rid the world of their evil, help to ensure their continued survival. But he would let them survive, as long as it meant they let his baby brother do the same. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll do it for Sammy."

Odessa clapped her hands gleefully. "Excellent. I knew you would, Dean…you'd do _anything_ for your little Sammy, wouldn't you?" Her words were met with telling silence. "Thought so. I left a number over there for you to call when and ONLY when your job is done, to let us know." She tossed her hair puckishly and turned away from the distraught elder sibling. "You get to work now…Sammy and I are waiting."

Striding to the middle of the room, Odessa gave Dean one last taunting smile over her shoulder. "I'll tell baby brother that you said 'hello'."

Dean stood there, frozen in place, long after Odessa had disappeared, tears finally breaking free from his eyes. "_Sammy_…" The most important word in Dean's Winchester's vocabulary floated brokenly into the night.

TBC…

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A/N: YAY! Away from home (West Virginia), visiting my aunt/uncle/cousins in Kentucky for the weekend and I STILL get the chapter up! Anything for my readers! Yep, heehee, I brought my laptop with me…I'm attached to it like Sammy is to his, LOL. And speaking of our youngest Winchester, he will be back in action come next chapter, and we'll find out just what's going down on his side of things. A big long-lost-sisterly hug to psiChic for the beta, and hugs to all my readers as well for all the support and the wonderful reviews! Love 'em :-D


	13. Chapter 13

DISCLAIMER: Well, I was given detention for misbehaving in the school of hard knocks today, made to write "I don't own _Supernatural_" on the blackboard 100 times. And I really wish I could write faster, 'cause there's this scary giggling girl with really long nails behind me, and I think she wants _her_ go at the chalk! Gulp!

SPOILERS: Anything that occurred before _Folsom Prison Blues_ could be referred to. Don't believe me? Read the chapter below!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dean stood there, frozen in place, long after Odessa had disappeared, tears finally breaking free from his eyes. "_Sammy_…" The most important word in Dean's Winchester's vocabulary floated brokenly into the night._

**Chapter 13**

Darkness. It was the last he thing he had known, and also the first thing to greet Sam Winchester as he slowly opened a pair of glazed hazel eyes. The rest of his body still felt numb except for his face and he sluggishly licked his lips trying to bring moisture back to the dried skin. At the same time, he tried to draw in a small breath but realized that wherever he was, it was strangely hard to breathe. Not impossible – _thank God_ – just hard. And cold. God, his face felt cold. He was sure it was cold all around him; the rest of his body just couldn't feel it. _What happened to me this time…? God, why can't I remember anything anymore…?_

Sam wracked his brain for any reason he might be in a situation like this. Maybe he was numb because he'd somehow been injured and Dean had him on strong pain medication…and it was cold because Dean had forgotten to turn off the motel room air conditioner when they went to bed. _Yeah, that must be it._ He swallowed, wetting his equally dry throat, but only managed to summon a startlingly weak voice. "De…" He swallowed again and tried for a second time. "De-a…" _What is _wrong_ with me?! Why can't I even talk?!_ "De-a…n," he finally got out and slowly lifted his head. It abruptly met with a hard surface. "Ow… wha…? De-ean?"

Sam could now feel a raw fear starting to creep through his veins, starting to gradually return sensation to his lax limbs. After a few more minutes, he realized he could wiggle his fingers and bend his arms. He weakly raised one of them and again hit something solid. He lowered it back down and slid it out to the side, and was surprised to meet with the same result._ Oh God…_

Sam was pretty sure he'd figured it out, and was desperately wishing that he hadn't. He had now regained some feeling in his legs, which he noticed were uncomfortably bent. Bent because they were up against that same hard surface that surrounded Sam on all sides. The vibrating and rumbling sound coming from beneath the floor on which he lay on his side confirmed his nightmare of a suspicion. He was locked inside a car trunk. He didn't know who had taken him, he didn't know how long he had been with his abductors; in fact, he knew very few things about what was going on. But he did know the most important thing – Dean wasn't there with him. That fact relieved and terrified him at the same time.

His heart began to beat faster and his breath quickened to compensate. But it was too hard to breathe normally, let alone erratically. Sam realized he was beginning to panic and knew he had to calm himself down somehow. He tried thinking of those he loved and cared for in his life, but of course, they were all people that he had lost – Jess, his father, his mother who he barely even got the chance to know, and Madison, who could be described similarly. There was Sarah, but he'd had to leave her… _God…_

Tears of sorrow and desperation were pooling in Sam's eyes by the time he had finished his ineffective tally. He felt one slip out of his eye and the worst feeling of loneliness he had ever known came over him. The last time that had happened, Dean had been there to wipe the tear away. Dean, the only person Sam loved that was still left; the person he loved with all his heart and knew loved him the same. Dean was always there, had always come to save him. Sam didn't know why it now devastated him so much that Dean wasn't there to do something so insignificant as wipe a tear away.

The offending salty droplet was left alone to freely slide down across the bridge of Sam's nose and eventually drip onto the floor. It was soon followed by another, and another. Sam rethought; there was nothing insignificant about Dean wiping a tear away. It was those simple acts of caring that Dean performed every day that showed Sam just how much Dean loved him. And whether it was Dean hurling himself between Sam and danger in the heat of battle, or Dean covering him with a blanket as he drifted off to sleep, Sam appreciated it all, equally. His face was now wet with the tears he had shed and he didn't care. He had always been the sensitive one in the family anyway. Plus, he figured his being drugged was wreaking havoc with not only his physical strength, but his emotional strength as well. But most of all, he just wanted Dean with him so badly… _No. No, I don't want him with me like this, _here_ with me. I just want…I just want him to find me…I'm scared…_ "Sc-cared, De-ean…and c-c-cold… F-f-find m-me…"

Sam had by now regained nearly full sensation and his long limbs and body ached from the nearly contorted pose he had been forced into. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing, whispering, imagining that wherever Dean was, he could hear him…and above all else, Sam was concentrating on trying to escape the reality of the situation. So focused on doing so, in fact, that he never noticed the sound of the trunk's lock popping or the rush of air and flood of dim light that came with its opening. "D-De-ean…p-p-ple-ease g-get m-me outttt… helpppp…"

"Awww…ain't that cute…the kid wants his big brother to save him."

The cold male voice snapped Sam out of his trance right before a pair of rough hands latched onto his arm and harshly yanked him into a sitting position. Sam barely bit back the cry of pain that threatened to escape his lips. "Wh-who a—" A sharp slap in the mouth cut him off immediately.

"_We_ do the talking here from now on, boy! You don't speak unless spoken to!" another male's voice snarled. "Cyrill, get the blindfold and gag!"

Sam watched as a short, stocky man with stubbly blond hair and dull grey eyes handed the man that had slapped him a roll of duct tape and a dirty dark blue rag.

"Here y'are, Dracon! Hey…wait just a minute here, lemme look at that kid's face," the shorter man, 'Cyrill', said.

Sam instinctively ducked down with every intention of denying the man his request, but a harsh hand fisted in his hair and painfully jerked his head upright until he was looking into the faces of his two captors. The man called 'Dracon' was an especially frightening sight. He was as tall as Sam but also much larger, with a hard-set face and slick black hair that was pulled tightly behind his head. But it was the icy blue eyes that made Sam's blood run cold; not only did this Dracon have murder in those eyes, but their color instantly reminded him of Odessa. _Oh my God… Odessa! These are her goons!_ Cyrill interrupted his epiphany.

"Would ya look at that…the kid's been cryin'! His face is all wet! Poor little boy," Cyrill laughed. He snatched the rag from Dracon and wiped it roughly across Sam's face. "Here, we'll help dry those tears," he cruelly joked.

Sam's mind was swimming; how could something so wrong have just happened? It was Dean who wiped away his tears, Dean and no one else, least of all these bastards in front of him. Dean, who did it gently, sympathetically…lovingly. What had just happened was all wrong…so wrong that it caused another tear to slip out of Sam's eye. He winced as Cyrill shoved the rag against his already bruised cheek again and ground it into his skin. The bruise ached and the coarse fabric stung bitterly. Almost as much as the slap across his mouth had…

"Gag him."

_Wha…? No!_ Before Sam's mind could even register the voice and what it had said, he felt his head being jerked back even harder and a long strip of duct tape was pulled and pressed down over his mouth. Now nothing could escape Sam's lips, so he mewled low in his throat – Dracon had still not yet relinquished his iron grip. But no sooner had Sam thought that than the hold on his hair was finally released, leaving Dracon's hand free to move down to the underside of his chin. Once there, the hand seized him with such force that Sam felt like he was being strangled – a feeling he had experienced far too many times for his liking. The hand held his head still while Cyrill pulled the sour smelling rag across Sam's eyes and tied it cruelly tight behind his head. He could feel the individual hairs and strands of hair that had been caught in the knot being pulled every time he moved his head after Dracon let go.

"Get the rope out of the back and tie his hands. Tell Leon to get his ass out here while you're at it!" Dracon ordered loudly to Cyrill, who walked away mumbling incoherently to himself.

Sam shivered; he knew all of Dracon's attention was now focused on him. Another gasp caught in his throat as Dracon forcefully grabbed his chin again and Sam stilled as he felt cold metal being pressed to his cheek.

"You hear that, boy? What I say goes. See this knife I have?" He lifted the blindfold from Sam's eyes with the tip of the blade and brought his other hand up to brush through Sam's long chestnut locks. He smiled briefly at the shudder that passed through the boy and then plucked an individual hair without warning, causing Sam to squeak out in surprise. "It's sharp enough to do this." Dracon held the hair at Sam's eye level and Sam's eyes widened as he skillfully split it down the middle using his deadly weapon. "Impressive, isn't it?" he chuckled. "Now, just imagine if I took it to your nice, soft skin…" He turned Sam's head to the side and put the knife blade to the side of his neck. "Like slicing through butter…"

Sam could hear the pounding of his own heart above every other sound in the night as Dracon continued to torment him with the knife until Cyrill finally returned with the rope and another man who appeared to be in his late thirties in tow. He was of average build with thinning, short reddish hair and dark brown eyes. 'Leon' Sam presumed. The newest arrival was the first to speak.

"So this is what all of Odessa's fuss is about…" Leon sneered, looking at Sam. "Cute kid, betcha Odessa will have some _real_ fun with this one…she likes 'em young. Likes to make men out of boys, know what I mean?" he laughed as Cyrill snickered knowingly beside him.

Sam felt nauseous at what they were insinuating and fought back the bile in his throat. He knew that if he threw up while his mouth was taped shut, he might start to choke on his own vomit, and he wasn't sure if these three bastards would save him or not. He tried not to think of it, but he couldn't hold back the fear and began breathing faster. _Oh God, what if she tries to—to do that to me and I can't stop her…?_ He could barely feel his arms being bound behind his back as the thoughts assaulted his mind.

"Kid havin' a panic attack or somethin'? Sounds like he's about to hyperventilate."

"Maybe he's cryin' again," Cyrill answered Leon with a sardonic smile. "The poor thing… Gettin' a little choked up myself, here, ya know?"

Sam heard the stocky creature approach with an obvious spring in its step and cringed as he felt his hair being ruffled. The action accidentally knocked the blindfold the rest of the way off his head, but restored vision or no, all Sam could think of was how they had just cruelly twisted another one of Dean's affectionate gestures for their own sick sarcasm.

"Don't worry, kid, Odessa'll make you feel better…I mean, cute, young,_ and _distraught?" Cyrill looked tauntingly into Sam's eyes. "She'll be all over you in a hot second, lover-boy. Get you down, strip you down and—_OOMPH_!"

The air was knocked out of Cyrill when Sam forcefully slammed his head into his stomach and the mocking familiar went down hard. Sam quickly got his equilibrium under control and took off running as best as he could on his shaky legs and bare feet, desperately trying to work his hands free as he fled. He twisted and strained his wrists to their limit, and could've nearly fallen over from shock when he somehow met with success. He ripped the tape off his mouth, ignoring the stinging pain it caused, and cried out for help though his voice was still weak from nonuse. _Or was that _Dean_ I just cried out for…? Hell, they're one in the same in my book…_

Sam continued to run as he yelled, but no sooner had he begun to pick up momentum than a scream was torn out of him as he was tackled from behind. Bucking and twisting under his attacker, he deftly managed to turn onto his back and kicked out a leg with all his might, shouting inwardly with success as his foot met with Dracon's nose and elicited a sickening crack from it. Dracon howled in pain and stumbled backward clutching at his injury as Sam got to his feet again, moving a few more steps only to then find himself sandwiched in between Cyrill and Leon…forced to take on both of them at one time. Even together, though, they were no match for Sam and his hunter's training. Within a matter of minutes, he had them both lying on the ground, moaning and clutching at the various body parts that he had landed effective hits to. And Sam was up and running again before a sudden invisible blow sent him crashing back to the ground.

The young hunter barely had enough time to make out the blurred, dark mass standing over him to be Dracon before hands viciously wrapped around his throat and pulled him upright. Dracon's eyes burned with wrath and his grip tightened as Sam's toes left the ground…Dracon was going to kill him. He brought his hands up to Dracon's forearms but the hold was viselike and Sam couldn't pry himself free. Air no longer reached his lungs and he could now see blackness starting to creep into the edges of his vision.

"You worthless little whelp, I'll wring your scrawny neck for what you did, I'll—"

"_YOU_ will do NOTHING of the sort, Dracon!" Odessa's voice roared just before she materialized. "Lest you forget who you're working for here – that being _me_ – _I_ have a plan, and the boy you're strangling at this moment is an essential part of it. Let. Him. Go." She watched as Dracon petulantly obeyed and dropped Sam to the ground in a wheezing, gasping, sputtering heap. She made her way over to the struggling boy and knelt beside him, laying her hand just below his chest. "Hush now, Sammy…hush, sweetheart… just breathe, you're okay…"

Sam's throat burned with every swallow of air, yet he felt like he could never take in enough. His lungs were heaving and his heart was racing as almost instantly a memory came unbidden to him…a memory of another time he had felt like this. He and Dean had gone back to their old house in Lawrence, Kansas to rid it of a poltergeist. He had been upstairs when a lamp cord had suddenly moved of its own volition and wrapped itself around his neck from behind. He remembered lying there trying to desperately pry it away, but the only thing he remembered after that was coming to in Dean's arms, his head resting safely against his big brother's shoulder.

_'Breathe, just breathe, Sammy, you're okay, I've got you…'_

The words of comfort echoed in his mind.

_'Just breathe, you're okay…'_

Sam heard the words again. Was that Dean? Was he safe with his older brother again? "De…" he rasped out. "De-e-a…n?"

Odessa chuckled mirthfully. "No, Sammy, most certainly not." She watched as tears flooded Sam's eyes upon that revelation. "Oh, my poor baby…don't cry. Just rest now…_sleep_. That's it…"

She waited until his eyes had slipped shut and then turned angrily toward her three male companions. "You incompetent FOOLS! Do you not understand how this plan works? We need Sam Winchester _alive_ if we are to get his brother to do my will! Tell me…you do remember Dean, don't you? The one who destroyed Ariet just a few months ago and nearly destroyed _me_ thirteen years ago?"

Cyrill and Leon nodded their heads; Dracon growled and grit his teeth. Odessa approached him. "Dracon, understand me…I know losing Ariet was hard for you, but damn it, it does NOT excuse you from trying to kill our leverage!" Point made, she then calmed her voice. "Dracon, all of you…this will be the final hurdle for us. We must work together on this, the four of us…we're all we have left. Then, once Dean destroys those spears for us in order to save his baby brother, we will be free. And _you_…" she motioned to Dracon, "since you have loved and lost just as I have, you will have the greatest freedom of all…the freedom to join me when I tear Dean's beloved Sammy limb from bloody limb and force Dean to helplessly watch the carnage." She smiled knowingly. "You _do_ desire carnage, don't you, Dracon?"

"Infinitely…I want to hear Dean Winchester beg for his brother's life even as we mutilate the boy right in front of his face."

"As do I, friend, as do I…and we will. But we must be patient, and until then, we mustn't hurt the boy…_too_ badly. I have a feeling Dean will be quite frequently demanding proof that Sammy is still alive…and we wouldn't want to disappoint him by killing the boy, now, would we?"

"No…" Dracon grinned. "We save _that_ for the end."

"By George…I think he's got it," Odessa grinned back and patted Dracon on the shoulder. "Cyrill, Leon, we're going!" The three men waited for Odessa as she bent down and lifted Sam into her arms. "Come on, Sammy…it's time to see your new home."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Well, YAY, I'm back home now, and it's good to be back! Had a nice time in Kentucky as always, but there's no place like home! LOL. And to celebrate my return, I have a little game for you, my dear readers! 'Tis as follows:

_Throughout my story, you have met/heard of eight humanoid familiars total, and they all have a little something in common…their namesakes. All eight were named after the same type of object, of which there are many…and they're out of this world. Can you guess/figure out what the objects are?_

The answer will be posted with the next chapter, and those who get it correct will be recognized :-D Thanks of course to my LLS for the beta, and I expect you to play along, missy! LOL. And much appreciation to all my readers and reviewers…your words bring me joy!


	14. Chapter 14

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, baby!!! I bought about twenty Scratch 'N Win lotto tickets and hit it big on every one of them! FINALLY I have enough money to buy _Supernatural_! Yep, just look at these babies, they're…(glances)…GONE?!?! No, I only put them down for a second! Just ask the girl with the accent, she…why that…what a b----!!!

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_, fair warning!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"By George, I think he's got it," Odessa grinned back and patted Dracon on the shoulder. "Cyrill, Leon, we're going!" The three men waited for Odessa as she bent down and lifted Sam into her arms. "Come on, Sammy…it's time to see your new home."_

**Chapter 14**

"Want it on your tab, Rollins?"

"You got it, babe!"

"Fine, tab it is. And don't call me 'babe', bastard!" Ellen Harvelle shot back good-naturedly at one of her regular customers. She had been in the barmaid business for plenty of years, but unlike most others, she ran a roadhouse that attracted quite an unusual array of patrons. Well, unusual to the outside world, at least. Not to her. Not only could Ellen say that some of her best friends were hunters of the supernatural, but her own late husband, Bill, had been as well. Through him, she had been introduced to the typically rough and tumble crowd and had made many lasting connections.

Lately, the Winchester family was on top of that list. She and John Winchester had not parted on the best of terms, as she still held him responsible for Bill's death during a hunt on which the two men had gone together. But despite the resentment that still remained, she felt like she had forgiven John through the connection she had made with his sons, Sam and Dean, over the past few months. She always knew they were good kids and now they were turning out to be damn good hunters as well. And while Ellen couldn't deny that she had given Dean hell a few months back for daring to take her daughter, Jo, out on a hunt without her permission, she had for the most part forgiven him too, even though she had barely talked to him since then. But it wasn't because she was still angry; if anything, it was that Dean seemed to be avoiding her and her place.

She surmised that this had a lot to do with keeping his brother safe, and though it stung a little to know that Dean thought contact with the Roadhouse might be a danger to Sam, she knew the thought didn't come without reasoning. One of her frequent visitors, Gordon Walker, had not too long ago hunted Sam down like his typical supernatural prey after finding out that Sam had psychic abilities. He had gone to jail for it – _thank God_ – but almost as disturbing to Ellen as the fact that Sam was nearly killed was Dean having told her that Gordon had claimed someone from her own roadhouse leaked Sam's secret to him. She understood – no matter how much she disapproved – that many hunters thought in black and white and, just as Gordon had, would also see Sam as something evil rather than someone good. But she knew without a doubt that Sam was the latter and feared for the boy's safety. Therefore, even as often as she thought about them, she kept the Winchester name quiet around the rest of her patrons.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse," she greeted after picking up the ringing phone, finding herself instantly taken aback to hear the voice of one of the objects of her reflection on the other end. "Dean? Is that you?"

_"Yeah, it's me."_

"Honey, how have you and Sam been? Been forever since I've talked to either one of ya." She noted with dismay that Dean's voice sounded weary and upset, and what he said next made her heart sink.

_"Sam's gone, he…he's been taken."_

Ellen caught her breath and composed herself. "Taken? As in kidnapped?" He quietly confirmed her question. "Oh my God…" Not again… "When? Do you know who did it?" she inquired fearfully as the horrible scenario of another closed-minded hunter having tracked Sam down played through her mind. She remembered that Sam had pulled a sudden disappearing act that had lasted for weeks sometime after the Gordon incident, but Dean had only called to tell her that he had gotten Sam back safely, leaving out any details of what had happened. _God, like that boy isn't already in enough danger from his abilities…_

She knew that Sam was indeed special, but to her, it had nothing to do with his abilities. Ellen had seen many hunters come and go over the years, but she had never known one like Sam. Because despite all the boy had been through and lost, despite the fact that the supernatural seemed drawn to him like flies to honey, despite the fact that he faced an uncertain future and people who possibly wouldn't be willing to let him live to see it, Sam somehow still possessed a gentle, compassionate heart and an innocent nature that she previously hadn't even thought possible for a hunter. She certainly understood why Dean fought so hard for him and protected him with such ferocity. Sam was a light in a world full of darkness. _Definitely something worth fighting for…_ Dean's somber voice brought her out of her thoughts.

_"He's been gone only a few hours, but…it was this creature, Odessa. She's this thing called a familiar that I wounded when I was a teenager. She says she's gonna kill Sam unless I destroy the only weapons in the world that can kill her kind, and that's come down to being a pair of spears. I've got one, I need to know who has the other."_

Ellen needed no further prompt. "ASH!" she called through the closed door with a sign that read "The Badass is IN" hanging on it. "Get your badass out here!" The door opened a few seconds later and a groggy-eyed Ash stepped out scratching absentmindedly at his mullet.

"Yes ma'am?" he said with a smirk and a salute as he sauntered up to Ellen.

"Get serious before I give you a different kind of salute. It's Dean," she whispered. Ash's eyebrow quirked. "He needs our help, more specifically, yours. Make sure you use your inside voice."

"Gotcha, m'lady!" Ash cheerily exclaimed and then shrank back at the glare he got from Ellen. "Right, sorry…quiet-like…" He took the phone from her and lowered his voice. "Hey, Dean-o, what's the haps?"

_"Ash, I need you to do some research for me. I've got some issues with these creatures called familiars, humanoid familiars… only thing that can kill 'em is a specially-made spear that there's only two of left in existence. I've got one—"_

"Need to know who has the other, right?"

_"Uh…yeah, exactly."_

"'Kay, humanoid familiars…spears…owners, yep. I'm on it, dude, gimme…thirty-seven minutes. I'll ring ya back."

_"Thanks, man. I'll owe ya another PBR, I'm guessin'."_

"I'll just have Ellen put it on your tab," Ash said with a grin and hung up. He had work to do.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Thirty-seven minutes…_ Dean slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration. Thirty-seven minutes wasn't a long time, he knew that. But with his Sammy in the clutches of an evil bitch and her thugs who were even now doing God only knows what to the kid, thirty-seven minutes would seem like an eternity. Just as the 'few hours' that Sam had been gone had already been feeling like. After recovering from his encounter with Odessa in the motel room, Dean had hit the road in a forlorn search for the dark red _possible _Ford Taurus that bore a plate matching the letters and numbers Dusty had written down for him. He had been searching for about an hour and a half now with no results. Dean felt like he was back in Hibbing, Minnesota where the Benders had resided, only this time, there would be no friendly cop to help him find his brother as he had thankfully found in Officer Kathleen Hudak. Now, thanks to the shape-shifter that had posed as Dean and the perpetual meddling of Special Agent Henricksen, both boys were wanted by the FBI and had to lay low from the long arm of the law.

Dean also knew that even if he happened upon the car of his search, and through it, found Sam, there wouldn't be much of anything – _if _anything – that he could do. He could surprise one of the freaks with a spear in the back, but unless the spear happened to impale the other three along with the original, any one of them would likely immediately kill Sam in retaliation. He was almost sorry that he was virtually immune from attacks by familiars because it put a non-immune Sam in that much more danger. But Dean knew that had he not had that immunity, he and Sam both would've likely been dead already...hell, he might not have even made it past fifteen and his first familiar-hunt with his father. Although none of these thoughts probably mattered anyway – he wasn't going to find that car. He'd just have to hope that Ash would come through for him.

He sadly glanced over at the empty passenger seat beside him – the seat that was normally filled by Sam. Whether he was bantering with Dean, laughing goofily, complaining about the music that Dean believed he secretly liked, deep in thought, or leaning his head against the window looking so young and innocent in sleep like he always did, the Impala just wasn't complete without Sam in the seat right beside Dean. Because as much as Dean loved his baby, he loved his baby brother more. More than anything and anyone else in the world. And he was going to get said baby brother back if it was the last thing he did…

Dean jumped as the phone that lay in the empty passenger seat he had been musing about suddenly blared out one of the 'greatest hits of mullet rock' that Dean loved to listen to. He realized now that yet again he hadn't even been listening to any music but there was no time to dwell on the reasons why. Ash was calling. _Have I been brooding for a full thirty-seven minutes…? I may have just rivaled Sammy's record!_ Dean snatched the phone. "Hello?"

_"Dean, it's Ash. Got your desired info a little sooner than I thought…'parently this guy ain't too secretive on the whole spear-ownership deal."_

"Huh. Good to hear, though. So who's our mystery man?" Ash's tinny voice came over the receiver in reply and the name he spoke caused Dean to slam on the brakes in shock. "Son of a BITCH!"

_"Dean? Dean, you okay, man? Tell me your girl ain't scrap metal with you still in it!"_

"No…no, I'm good, I'm fine. Just…tell me one more time what the guy's name is?" Ash repeated his answer. "Dammit," Dean grunted.

_"You need his address? Cuz if ya do, I—"_

"No thanks, Ash, I'll take it from here. Tell Ellen I'll call her once I get my brother back safe."

_"Get your…wha?! Dean? What's goin'—"_

"Talk to Ellen, I gotta go!" Dean spat and then pushed the 'END' button. He tossed the phone into the passenger seat and adeptly but quickly maneuvered the Impala into a complete 180, then floored it in back in the direction from which he came. Mind completely focused, Dean picked up the phone again. He had another call to make.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: LOL, okay, if you're like my LLS, you are going crazy to know who Dean is calling and screaming "Who, who, WHO?!?!?!?!" LOL. Sorry for the cliffie! You'll find out soon enough! The usual thanks to my LLS for the beta and everyone who's reading/reviewing! And now...it's time to announce the results of the name game! The answer to the question is….

Meteors! To be more specific, meteorites (Odessa, Pribram, Ivuna, Harleton) and meteoroids (Draconid, Cyrillid, Leonid, Arietid…sans the '-id') Now, a big congrats to** Phx** for getting the answer correct in only two tries! Way to go! And yeah, my **LLS** also got it correct…after about ten or so hints! LOL. Yep, I had her begging for them…hehe. Special mention also to **Colby's girl** and **TammiTam** for coming very close with their guesses. :-)

All righty, 'til next chapter, folks…enjoy _Sin City_ tonight! And I don't mean Vegas! LOL.


	15. Chapter 15

DISCLAIMER: Sooo, I tried my hand at Hoodoo magic yesterday; made dolls to represent _Supernatural_, the boys, and myself so that I could mystically bind my desires to me forever! YAY! Unfortunately though, the plan very much backfired when my cat mistook the doll representing me for one of her toys…man, did I ever need Band-Aids. OUCH.

SPOILERS: Beware! Only the episodes from _Folsom Prison Blues_ on are out of bounds!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"Talk to Ellen, I gotta go!" Dean spat and then pushed the 'END' button. He tossed the phone into the passenger seat and adeptly but quickly maneuvered the Impala into a complete 180, then floored it in back in the direction from which he came. Mind completely focused, Dean picked up the phone again. He had another call to make._

**Chapter 15**

"Need anything else?"

Odessa sighed and gave Cyrill and Leon an agitated look to let them know they had worn out their welcome for now. "No, thank you, that'll be all…we'd like to be alone now." She turned her eyes to her helpless captive. "Wouldn't we, Sammy?" She knelt and lowered her lips to his ear. "Wake up and tell them that, love."

"Al—o…ne." The word had left Sam's parted lips before he had even opened his eyes to register where he was and who was speaking to him. His throat was terribly sore and he unconsciously moved his hand to rub at his neck when he instantly realized that he couldn't move his arms. He swallowed painfully and opened bleary eyes to look at what was holding him still and discovered that his left wrist was duct taped tightly to the arm of a chair. He slowly turned his head to find that it was the same case as with his right wrist. His ankles were taped to the chair's legs and the chair seemed to be secured into the floor somehow. Anger and fear coursed through him at the same time and his muscles bulged as he tried to break free of his bonds. Odessa stood in front of him, clapping.

"Oh, Sammy! My, you put on quite a show when you're angry. You know…keep straining like that and you'll bust right out of your clothing!" Her face lit up. "So…by all means, _do_ keep straining."

"Go to hell!" Sam spat clearly. Though his throat still burned, the fire of defiance in his heart burned stronger. It reflected in his hazel eyes, bringing out every color in them clearly.

"Hmm…" Odessa put a finger to her chin and tapped it. "Might one day, but right now…" she looked at Sam hungrily, "I think I'll stay right here in heaven with my beautiful angel...my sweet Sammy." Her face was inches away from his and she smiled as a look of fear passed over him, replacing the fury. She brought a hand up to cup his jaw so that she could completely bridge the short gap between their faces but barely had time to register that his jaw was working before a glob of saliva hit her square in the upper lip. She yelped and jumped backwards wiping at her face and met his eyes. They held defiance once again, along with a hint of satisfaction.

"It's _Sam _to you, bitch. And don't think for a second that I'll ever be _yours_." He saw that Odessa was staring at him in shock. "_What?_" Sam growled. "You think I was gonna let you put your sick hands all over me without a fight?" She didn't answer and Sam scoffed. "Well then, you obviously don't have much of an upstairs brain, I guess. Which makes sense since you've gotta be pretty freakin' dumb to think you can take on my brother of all people without a fight! 'Cause I gotta tell you…he's probably pretty pissed right about now."

Odessa's shocked look turned into a sly smile and she began to approach Sam again. "Oh, he is, I can attest to _that_. And, ah, before we start this conversation, spit on me again, and I'll cut off a finger from each hand." She nodded approvingly as Sam swallowed grudgingly. "Now then, _Sammy_," she sneered, "I know you may find this hard to believe, but…as pissed as your brother indeed is, he's _not _going to be fighting back this time."

Sam's stomach clenched. "Wh—what did you do to him?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, Sammy," she cooed with a finger to his lips. "It's so sweet how you two always put your concern for each other before that of yourselves. Don't worry…I didn't harm your big brother. I can't." She saw the look of confusion cross Sam's face. "It's a long story, Sammy. Let's just keep it simple and say it started thirteen years ago and has nothing whatsoever to do with those tattoos both of you sport."

"Seein' as how you're touching me, I kinda gathered that," Sam muttered with a frown.

"Such a smart boy!" she squealed, teasingly pinching Sam's cheek. "You see, Sammy, your look of fear right before you spat on me was a job well done, fooled me completely. _But_…you're not the only one who can fake it." She slid out of her sandals and engaged Sam's right foot in a game of footsy. "You and your brother really thought those tattoos had worked in that motel room, didn't you?" She lightly skimmed her toes over Sam's. "You know, it's probably a good thing that they didn't, because if they had, I would've had to chop off this lovely foot of yours…and that would've been a shame."

Sam suppressed a shudder. "Yeah. So you did nothing to Dean, you _can't _do anything to Dean, so give me one good reason why he's not gonna fight back!" he challenged.

Odessa chuckled and then looked directly into her prisoner's stunning hazel orbs, taking in the gradation from light brown to green to the blue around the edges…she had never seen such incredible eyes. She smiled, not flinching at the fire she still saw in them, knowing what she said next would put that fire out immediately. Turning his head to the side, she gingerly lifted the feathery dark brown curls that concealed his ear and put her mouth to it to whisper the answer. "You."

The word echoed in Sam's mind and froze his blood. This crazed bitch was going to use him to get to Dean. And what scared Sam the most about that fact was that he knew it would work. Dean wouldn't give up Sam's life for anything. Sam recalled when they had gone to a small town in Oregon after he'd had a vision of Dean killing a man. Upon arrival, they quickly discovered that something there was making people go from everyday friendly citizens to murderous psychos seemingly overnight. That something had turned out to be a demonic virus, and Sam had ended up contracting it. Sam was ready to die, ready for someone to kill him to prevent him from turning, but of course, Dean wouldn't have it. In the end, Sam had ended up being somehow immune to the virus, but before this was discovered, Dean had told the others to leave – even giving them the keys to the Impala – and locked himself in the clinic with Sam, waiting for the end. He had opted to die with his baby brother rather than live without him. And Sam knew he would do it again. So there was only one question he had to ask Odessa, and he dreaded the answer. "Wh—what do you want with my brother?"

Odessa drank in the fear that had now replaced the fire in Sam's eyes – for _real_, this time. "Relax, Sammy. Remember, I can't hurt Dean. I simply want his cooperation with a little something."

_That_ thought didn't relax Sam one bit. He knew that Odessa couldn't hurt Dean, for whatever reason it was…but Dean could hurt himself. He could kill himself. And he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant saving Sam. The youngest Winchester knew that fact all too well, and it terrified him. "Cooperation with what?"

"With getting rid of those pesky spears that can kill me and my kind," Odessa replied calmly. "My rules are simple – Dean brings me the spear he owns plus the other one that he is to find, he destroys them as I supervise…and I give you back to him as payment." She smiled and began to softly stroke Sam's cheek with her thumb. "You see, Sammy, everything will be okay. All you have to do is wait for big brother to do his job, which he'll of course do since your life is at stake. But in the meantime, you won't get hurt, he won't get hurt…no one will. Just as long as you two boys cooperate…so will we." Her hand leisurely slinked down his neck to the opening of his shirt and she brought up her other hand to join it there. "But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have a little fun with you while we wait…"

Sam shut his eyes and tried to imagine he was anywhere else but there as he felt her undo the buttons on his shirt, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop her actions other than just pray that it would all be over with soon. A shiver worked through his body that he suspected was not due in entirety to the cold air that met with his newly exposed skin. This woman – no, _thing's _– touch had not been welcome before and it was certainly not welcome now. But he knew that didn't matter to Odessa. This was about her own sick pleasure. He felt her slipping his shirt down his broad shoulders and muscular arms until she was forced to stop at his elbows, and he shivered again. Sam considered imagining that he was with Jess or Madison, but both losses were still too fresh and painful in his mind and he didn't want to tarnish their memories. Odessa's actions weren't loving; they were possessive, licentious…_wrong_. "P-please…stop…" he brokenly protested. She silenced him by covering his mouth with hers. A tear squeezed out of Sam's eye as she held his head still to continue her assault and he silently begged God for it to stop.

"Odessa! We need ya in here ASAP!"

_Damn you, Cyrill! What in the HELL do you fools need me for?! _She sighed against Sam's lips as she heard Cyrill call out again. _Worst timing possible… _She reluctantly broke contact with Sam and smirked as he exhaled heavily and shakily. "Now don't go anywhere, Sammy," Odessa cooed as she self-indulgently traced a finger from the base of Sam's neck down to his navel before finally turning to leave. "I'll be back soon, love…the fun has just begun."

Sam waited until Odessa was out of sight before he let the sobs wrack his already shivering frame. And once again, he found himself wishing more than anything that his big brother could be there to wipe away his tears.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know she's despicable…but oh man, to be in her shoes! LOL. Or sandals, to be more precise, heehee. Yep…if only they weren't such evil sandals to be in…LOL. Well, then…I do believe…that actually, surprisingly, I don't really have anything much to say this time! Yes, a true first…LOL. So I'll just say the things I always say and leave it at that, which are of course, a great big thanks and hug to my LLS for the always helpful and entertaining beta work, and the same to all my readers and reviewers…you all bring sunshine to my soul. LOL! Yes, yes I will stop trying to wax poetic now…_definitely_. See ya'll next chapter :-D


	16. Chapter 16

DISCLAIMER: So I'm gonna be a zombie tomorrow night for Trick-or-Treat…and since I go all out with my makeup, I hope no hunters are around to shove me in my fake coffin and knife me in the heart! LOL. Now, if they look like Sam and Dean, at least I'll be able to die happy, but sorry! Won't be leaving _Supernatural_ to anyone in my will…'cause I don't own it.

SPOILERS: Anything that happened up to _Hollywood Babylon_ may turn up. This story's action takes place between that episode and _Folsom Prison Blues_.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Sam waited until Odessa was out of sight before he let the sobs wrack his already shivering frame. And once again, he found himself wishing more than anything that his big brother could be there to wipe away his tears._

**Chapter 16**

Dean tapped his foot impatiently against the dingy motel carpet waiting for his requested guest to show up. Instead of being transfixed on the door, though, his eyes were staring at Sam's empty bed, almost as though he could make Sam appear there, safe and sound, if he stared hard and long enough. The clock read that it was after 3:30 AM. His mind was taken back to the previous night when, around that time, he had been in the throes of a horrific nightmare in which Sam was being tormented by Odessa and he could only watch helplessly. He could easily imagine what Sam was going through at the present moment, but he didn't want to. Being forced to watch it happening in the nightmare had been horrible for Dean, but it was even worse thinking that, quite possibly, Sam was now having to go through all of that alone instead…

He pushed those thoughts away, still staring at the unoccupied bed, and a visual of Sam lying there a few hours before the nightmare – propped up on the pillow talking to Dean and looking and sounding so much younger than his already-young twenty-three years – overtook Dean's mind, causing his eyes to well up. Dean didn't know what he'd do if he never got to see that sight for real again. If from now on when he said the most important word in his vocabulary, he wouldn't – _couldn't_ – get a reply from the most important person in his life.

Ever since Sam had grown into his teens, said reply had always been, "It's 'Sam'." It had been a ritual between the two brothers for many years, but lately, Sam had been accepting the nickname for what it was – a term of endearment. _Dean's _term of endearment. No one but Dean was allowed to call him 'Sammy', and both brothers enforced that rule. Besides – even though Dean would never admit such a chick-flick sentiment out loud to his brother – rearrange the letters in 'Sammy' and they would say, 'my Sam'. And that's exactly how Dean felt about the kid. Not only was Dean going to make Odessa pay for ever laying a finger on his baby brother, but he would also likely cut out her tongue for daring to say that Sam belonged to her. _Over my dead body, bitch…and then you'll have to defeat my pissed off spirit after that! _A knock at the door brought Dean's mind back to reality, and he answered it in about one second flat.

"Officer Johnson, ya needed to see me for somethin'?" _This early in the mornin'…?_

"Okay, listen, man," Dean said, hurriedly ushering his guest into the room, "let's drop the charades. I know who you are and what you do, so there's no need to hold back anymore."

William "Dusty" Bennett's eyes widened in shock and he contemplated whether he should hear out the young man in front of him or just make a run for it to avoid what he was sure was coming his way – a pair of handcuffs and his Miranda Rights. "Uh, look Officer, I don't know what—"

"Cool it. No arrest warrants here. And stop calling me 'Officer', I prefer 'Dean' a lot more. It's my real name after all…Dean Winchester."

Dusty's mouth fell open. "_The_ Dean Winchester? As in son of John Winchester?"

"That's me."

Dusty grabbed Dean's hand and shook it firmly. "Well, I'll be damned! It's a privilege to meet ya, sonny. Your daddy's always been a big name 'round us huntin' types." He let go of Dean's hand. "How's your daddy doin', boy?"

"He um…Dad…Dad passed away not too long ago," Dean said quietly. He still felt the loss and also still felt guilty about the deal his father had made for him. But no one other than Sam and him had to know that.

"Damn. I'm real sorry to hear that. Never met 'im, but I'm sure he was a good man," Dusty said sincerely.

"Yeah…he was."

Dusty nodded sympathetically and then decided the topic needed to be changed. "Can see he taught ya well, though. Your police officer ruse fooled me a good 'un, and I've done that myself a time or two…God…" Dusty paused and scrubbed a hand across his stubbly face. "That boy that them freaks of nature took off with…that was Sam, wasn't it?" he asked quietly. _How much loss could one young man go through in a year…?_

Usually, Dean would've been slightly discomforted by a stranger knowing so much about his family, especially when that knowledge could once again prove dangerous for Sam. But the Winchester family was well known in the hunting community for better or worse, and at this point, Dean was counting it toward the better. The less explaining he had to do to Dusty – who didn't strike Dean as the psychotic Gordon Walker type – the sooner they could get the spears to Odessa and get Sam back safely. "Yeah," Dean choked out. "How'd you know?"

"Seen you boys walkin' 'round the motel n' the town. Ya called 'im both 'Sam' and your little brother, an' old common knowledge of the Winchester clan went that John had two sons, Dean n' Sam. Last I heard of ya'll was a long time ago, you were only a teenager, I think." Dusty sighed and lowered his voice again. "Dean, God…I don't know what to say to ya… 'cept that if ya want my help, you've got it. I know exactly what we're dealin' with right along with ya. Huntin' them humanoid familiars used to be one'a my specialties. Damn child-killers…"

"Whoa, whoa…you knew that familiars were what took Sam? How…?"

"Well, first off I ain't in this little nothin' of a town just for kicks, son. Second off, the big one knocked me damn unconscious…without even layin' a finger on me."

"Telekinesis."

"You got it."

"So these three do have powers…perfect," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"Well, I dunno 'bout that exactly…sure, the big one has 'is telekinesis workin', but I think that's as far as it goes…was thinkin' them three familiars are jus' now growin' into their powers. Them other two may not have any at all, yet."

"Huh. Well, thank God for small miracles," Dean said, sarcastic tone still present.

"Yep. Look, Dean…not that I figure ya need to be told this, but…them things are a real bitch to deal with all by your lonesome, let alone three against one," the old hunter sighed. "So," he met Dean's eyes, "like if I said, if ya want my help…"

Dean decided to be to the point. "Listen, Mr. Bennett—"

"Dusty."

"Dusty," Dean corrected. "I don't just _want_ your help, I _need_ it. Those three familiars didn't randomly snatch my brother…they've got a freakin' queen bitch, Odessa. They did it for her, she…she's using Sam as a bargaining chip with me."

"That so… Whaddya have that she wants?"

"This," Dean removed the spear from its resting space between his bed and the nightstand. "But she wants _both_ of the ones still in existence…and I have it on good authority that you have the other one." Dusty opened his mouth to speak but Dean continued. "Look, I know, rare weapon and all and I'm just asking you to give it to me out of the blue…but if I don't…" Dean trailed off.

"They'll kill your little brother," Dusty finished somberly. Dean remained tellingly silent. The old hunter looked down at the floor and exhaled deeply. "Dean…look—"

"Dusty, please," Dean implored. "I can't lose my little brother…I can't. I know that I've just dragged you right into this, but—"

"Dean," Dusty cut him off. "Son, I would give that damn spear up in a heartbeat if it'd save your little brother's life. That's what huntin's always been about for me, ya know? Savin' the innocent." He paused and ran a hand through his scraggly hair. "But…I can't, Dean. Spear got stolen from me almost four years ago…by a fellow hunter of all people," Dusty admitted forlornly and bitterly.

If Dean hadn't already been sitting down on the bed, he figured he would've fallen to his knees in devastation. Odessa had clearly stated she had to see _both _spears destroyed before she released Sam, and her words rang clearly in his ear.

'_Fail to do any of this, and sweet young Sammy will never see his twenty-fourth birthday.'_

Maybe he could somehow find a fake spear and give that to her instead. But if she found out…

'_Try any deception, and I will hold you to the wall and make you watch as my friends torture and bleed your baby brother to death.'_

"God…" Dean breathed out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Do…do you know who took it?"

Dusty shook his head. "Sorry…I don't. Jus' figured it had to be a fellow hunter 'cause they only took the spear. Left other stuff like my money an' my entire truck, for that matter, alone." Distraught, the old hunter began to pace as he continued. "I was up in Michigan. Routine haunting; took care of it fine. But when I came back outside, somebody'd broken into my truck, snatched that spear right outta the cab. Came down here after findin' out the familiars were here, hopin' to find the person who snatched it…figured they'd be huntin' the damn things down now that they had my spear. No luck, though." Dusty laughed humorlessly. "Under any other circumstances I woulda thought you'd been the thief, had I seen ya with your own spear…but now, ya know…" He stopped pacing and looked at Dean. "I really am sorry."

Dean remained silent for a moment. He couldn't lose Sam…he _wouldn't_. "You're sure that you have absolutely no idea, not even the tiniest clue, who stole your spear…? Please."

Dusty was about to say 'no' when he remembered what Dean had said while posing as the cop…_every little bit helps_. He relented. "The only thing I ever had to go on was that there'd s'posedly been another hunter in the area that week, but I never was able to track the guy down." He sighed wearily. "I'm old, Dean, an' gettin' older, keep to myself more n' more…I've kinda been outta the loop with the rest of the huntin' community for years; ya might've noticed I don't even use aliases with the law anymore... Not that I'm a wanted man or anythin', but still… An' like I said, only heard about you Winchesters from back in my younger days, when you n' Sam were still just little'ns." He finally took a seat at the small table in the room. "So, anyways, I was given this guy's name, but there wasn't much I could do with it. Never'd heard of 'im, didn't know anyone who had. Not even the guy who gave me 'is name knew 'im...just knew _of _'im."

Dean curbed his impatience until Dusty was finished with his life story. "Okay, then…do you remember what the guy's name was?"

"Yeah…Walker, Gordon Walker."

Dean leapt up from the bed. "Son of a BITCH!" He looked Dusty in the eye. "You're sure that was the name?!"

Dusty was taken aback by Dean's intense reaction and stared wide-eyed at him. "Yeah, that was it…you, um, know this guy, I take it?"

"Oh, I know him, all right," Dean growled. "That freakin' psycho bastard tried to kill my brother!"

"What?!" Dusty blurted out in shock.

"Long story," Dean spat. "But damn sure if any hunter took your weapon, it'd be him. He's a lowlife, dishonest, self-righteous son of a bitch who'd do anything to further the twisted shit he does, and that includes stealing!" Dean said furiously, pacing holes in the carpet. "He's in jail now, thanks to Sam. Somewhere in between all of Gordon's attempts to freakin' kill him, he was able to phone in an anonymous tip to the police and they busted the bastard. Found the weapons stash in his car…Sammy and I watched it happen."

Dusty sat there in a silent stupor, taking it all in. He wanted to help this young man and his little brother so badly, but didn't know where to begin. _Then again… _"Dean…ya think ya could manage to get in contact with the officers that apprehended 'im? They'd prob'ly be able to tell ya what they did with 'is weapons stash and what was in it."

Dean had already booted up the laptop. That's exactly what he intended to do._ You nearly took Sammy from me once, Gordon, you son of a bitch…_ His fingers flew across the keyboard and his brain was firing on all cylinders._ You're not gonna do it again._

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Uh-oh, not a good development for Dean's Sammy-rescuing mission, now, is it? Well, hopefully it's a good development for the story, then! LOL. Hugs and thanks to all you readers and reviewers, and the same to my LLS for her simply impeccable beta skills. LOL. To all of you out there who celebrate it, have a very happy and safe Halloween, and be sure to carry some rock salt with you when you go out! LOL. And I wasn't kidding, heehee, I am dressing up as a (hopefully) very realistic-looking zombie, love to play my costumes to the hilt every year, LOL. So, um…don't accidentally use your rock salt on me, LOL! Thanks. ;-)


	17. Chapter 17

DISCLAIMER: Hmm…anyone around here know Kripke's street address or at least his current hometown? I've been considering a plan to go Trick-or-Treating there tonight to see if he's handing out _Supernatural_ at his door, so…anyone?

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ may worm its way into this story.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dean had already booted up the laptop. That's exactly what he intended to do. _You nearly took Sammy from me once, Gordon, you son a of bitch…_ His fingers flew across the keyboard and his brain was firing on all cylinders. _You're not gonna do it again.

**Chapter 17**

_Cellar…I'm in some kind of cellar… _Sam's eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting by now and he was alone – no one to distract him from taking in his surroundings. The room was indeed a cellar; he was sure, but a much larger cellar than most that he had encountered in his lifetime. The walls were concrete, as was the floor, but the walls had apparently once been painted a shade of burgundy, which was starting to fade and chip off. Why anyone would want a burgundy cellar, Sam had no idea, but he wasn't in the mood to judge anyone's interior design preferences.

The dim light came from two bare bulbs that hung at opposite ends of the room and the door-less exit that a small flight of stairs led to. A larger light was installed in the middle of the leaky ceiling, but that light had been turned off when Sam was left alone. Shelves and a dilapidated workbench adorned the wall he was facing, while only crates and boxes sat in the corners of the wall that his back was to. Sam appeared to be closer to that wall, but still practically in the middle of the room. The air around him smelled musty and felt cold, especially on the exposed upper half of his body and his bare feet. Goosebumps were starting to form on his arms and his teeth were chattering. His face was sticky from the tear tracks and the lack of ability to wipe them off, and if all of that wasn't enough, now it felt like he had a stupid bug in his hair. He shook his head vigorously, causing more of his bangs to fall into his eyes, and after a few good shakes, he no longer felt the crawly sensation. _At least one thing finally went right… _

Sam's eyes fixed on a pair of large scissors lying on the workbench. If he could just get those scissors somehow, he might possibly manage to cut himself free. He blocked out every sound, smell, touch, and taste that he was experiencing at the moment. All that he wanted working were his mind and his eyes, with both focused on a singular goal – getting the scissors. He took in their shape, their every contour and point, his eyes narrowed and he stared as hard as he could with one word running through his mind. _Move…move…MOVE! _The dust in the air was starting to sting his eyes but he didn't blink or acknowledge the pain. _Move…MOVE! _

He stared and concentrated on the scissors until his eyes were burning and watering, and finally, he was forced to blink. And blink, and blink. Salty droplet after droplet slipped out of his eyes and he wasn't sure if they were a result of the pain in his eyes or the pain in his heart. He hadn't moved the scissors one millimeter. No matter how many times he had tried since the incident at the Miller home, Sam hadn't been able to get his telekinetic powers to work again. He often wondered if he really even had telekinetic powers or had just somehow sponged off of Max's in that desperate moment. And if Sam truly _did_ have them, then they continued to be of no use to him. _Damn it…_The new tears streamed down his face to join the other tear tracks. The only thing Sam had succeeded in doing was making his face even stickier. He sniffled heavily. _Just please don't let my nose start running too…_

Sam pushed his misery away in exchange for terror when he heard footsteps directly above him and a dark silhouette appeared in the doorway. Not Odessa. This was a male, a large male. _Oh God…Dracon! _Sam swallowed convulsively and his breath and heart rate quickened as the heavy footsteps of Dracon descending the stairs echoed throughout the cellar. The large ceiling light was flipped on and Sam squinted against the sudden flood of brightness, causing yet another tear to leak out of his still burning eyes. The footsteps came closer and closer, and the tear was halfway down Sam's cheek when Dracon roughly turned his face toward his.

"Can't sleep, boy?" He smirked at the tiny droplet which was now nearly down to Sam's chin. "Afraid of the dark?"

"You wish," Sam bit out, staring him in the eye. "Oh, nice nose, by the way. Might wanna look into some rhinoplasty." Once again, the young hunter received a sharp slap in the mouth, causing his already tender lower lip to split from the impact.

"DON'T smart off to me, you little whelp! It wouldn't bother me one bit to cut out your tongue…or your larynx," Dracon growled with a sharp jab to Sam's throat. "And you'd better get that defiant spark out of your pretty eyes before I gouge those out too."

Sam didn't comply, enraging Dracon enough to whip out his knife and drive it directly toward one of Sam's hazel orbs. Sam couldn't stop the petrified whimper that escaped from him as he squeezed his eyes as tightly closed as he could. Dracon halted the deadly tip only an inch in front of its target, and took a moment to indulge himself in the chorus of rapid breaths now coming from the boy and the fact that his eyelids were still clenched shut. "That's better."

As soon as he was sure that Dracon had taken the knife away, Sam opened his eyes to find him menacingly admiring the glint of its metal. Sam was now trembling all over, too traumatized to even bother with putting his solid façade back on. "Wh-what do you w-want? P-p-please j-just leave m-me alone…"

Dracon smiled. "I couldn't sleep either, you see. I just wanted to talk…'Sammy', right?" he said in a falsely friendly voice as he trailed the tip of the knife along Sam's bare chest. Sam's tremors became even worse. The youngest Winchester didn't scare easily by any means, but something about Dracon terrified him…and Dracon knew that. He walked away for a brief moment to grab another chair and pulled it up no more than a foot from Sam. "Hmm? What was that?" Dracon drawled with a hand to his ear as he heard Sam try to stammer out something.

"It's 'S-S-Sam."

"I see. So, _S-S-Sam_," Dracon mocked, "do you know what it feels like to lose someone you love?" His expression became deadly serious.

Sam's trembling began to dissipate instantly. He knew what it felt like to lose _everyone _he loved. Except for Dean, of course. And that was a pain he never wanted to feel. "M-more than you know," he answered sharply.

Dracon finally pulled his knife away. "Good. Hurts, doesn't it?" He didn't give Sam a chance to respond. "You know, I felt that pain a few months ago…thanks to your damn brother!" he snarled. "That 'freak' he killed? _That _was my Ariet…my _love_."

Sam, not even knowing what hunt the intimidating familiar was rambling about, remained silent and stoic as Dracon continued.

"You know, there is nothing I want more in the world than for Dean Winchester to feel the pain that I felt, so…" he grinned maliciously, cupping Sam's cheek. "Thank heaven for little brothers."

"W-what do you mean?" Sam asked fearfully, too transfixed by the evil gleam in Dracon's icy eyes to jerk away from his touch.

"_I mean_…that as soon as your brother gets here with those spears thinking everything is going to end happily ever after…that's when I'm going to eviscerate you, Sammy. Nice and slow and messy, while Dean is forced to watch it all."

The blood drained out of Sam's face. "B-but Odessa said—"

"Odessa lied!" Dracon roared, then lowered his tone. "Be reasonable, boy...after all that your family has done to our kind, all that killing that has practically driven us to extinction...did you really think that we'd let you both live? Now, _you_…you haven't done anything to us, Sammy. But that's what will make your death all the sweeter. Innocent blood on Dean's hands…and not just _any_ blood…the blood of his beloved baby brother." Dracon sighed longingly. "He'll be covered in your liquid life, Sammy…it's Dean's worst nightmare. You dying…dying right in front of him…dying in his arms. And we're going to make it come true." Dracon rose from the chair and patted Sam on the head. "Just wanted to let you know that before you drifted off to dreamland," he chuckled. "Sleep well, Sammy…soon you'll be sleeping forever."

Dracon's footsteps once again echoed throughout the cellar and then grew fainter and fainter until they could be heard no more. Especially not over the frantic pounding of Sam Winchester's heart.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: And there, my readers, is your Halloween treat from me! I actually already had my Trick-or-Treat last night, went great, freaked a great many people out doin' my zombie thing, heehee! I imagine all the rest of ya'll have your Trick-or-Treat tonight though, so have a good one, everyone! Thanks to all of you for reading/reviewing and thanks of course to my LLS for her insightful beta work. Enjoy the new episode of _Supernatural_ tomorrow, and as for today…HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!


	18. Chapter 18

DISCLAIMER: I got in contact with Kripke, told him that whatever he did, he should never, ever give me the rights to _Supernatural_…no matter what! Sad to say, the only thing I gained from this conversation was the knowledge that reverse psychology SO does not work!

SPOILERS: If you saw it in any episode that came before _Folsom Prison Blues_, you just might see it here!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dracon's footsteps once again echoed throughout the cellar and then grew fainter and fainter until they could be heard no more. Especially not over the frantic pounding of Sam Winchester's heart._

**Chapter 18**

Dawn could be seen turning the sky from black to blue through the thin motel room curtains as Dean gripped the phone in aggravation. Posing once again as Officer Brian Johnson, he had made numerous calls to the Indiana State Police and finally talked to the officers who had arrested Gordon. They had transferred him to the office in charge of confiscated items as he had requested and now he was on hold…again. He remained on hold for about two minutes this time before a cheery female voice came on the line. _Ugh, morning people… _

"_Is this Officer Brian Johnson?"_

"Yes, ma'am, this is he."

"_Very good. Officers Clay and Riggleman informed me that you needed information on the items confiscated from Gordon Walker?" _

"That's correct, ma'am. I need to know about the weapons…more specifically if there was a spear among them."

"_A spear, sir?"_ the woman said with a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

"_Okay…we have a list here of the specific weaponry that was appropriated and accompanying photos…I'll check for you. Hold, please."_

"Thank you much, ma'am. I'll hold," Dean said genially. _That's all I seem to have been doing lately anyway… _He could faintly hear the shuffling of papers in the background and began to pace the room, knowing it would be a long wait. He turned the TV on at the lowest possible volume to give him some company. Dusty had left about two hours ago with a request that Dean call him as soon as he found out anything on the spear and Dean was grateful he had an ally in all this. With another knowledgeable hunter on his side, there was more hope and likelihood of getting Sam back safely. And that hope was the only thing that was keeping him from falling apart at the moment. For most of his life in fact, Dean had felt that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, but as long as he had Sam with him, Dean knew he wouldn't fall. Sam wouldn't let him, and for Sam's sake, he wouldn't let himself.

Dean thought back to what Odessa had said, all her talk about how Sam was his weakness. In all honesty, Dean couldn't deny that this was a truthful statement. Dean Winchester had walls and defenses that were all solidly built, masks of sarcasm, wit, and cockiness, and a hard shell that was practically a requirement in the hunting world. His baby brother – his Sammy – was the only thing in the world that could make any and all of those things crumble, often with just one look from those big, soulful eyes. It didn't take a genius of an enemy to realize that the only way to break through all of Dean's armor and pierce his heart was to threaten and/or hurt Sam. Because of all things and people, Sam was nearest and dearest to Dean's heart. Hell, the kid was actually half of it!

'_Lemme guess…yer brother's got one half of a heart, an' you need the other, right?'_

Dean smiled to himself at that memory. Sure, Butch had meant his remark concerning what kind of tattoo Sam needed to be a snide one, but he didn't know how just close to the truth he had hit...it _was_ the truth. _God, Sammy's turning me into a girl nowadays… _He laughed lightly at the fact that Sam could initiate a chick-flick moment for him without even being there. But therein lay the whole problem. Sam wasn't there. Dean wasn't going to let that last for much longer, though. He was determined to get Sam back. He had to. He didn't know what he'd ever do without his puppy-dog-eyed, mop-topped, freakishly tall geek-boy sidekick in his life, and he never intended to find out.

"_Officer Johnson?"_

_Don't worry, Sammy. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you, I'm gonna save you. I promised ya that, kiddo, and I meant it. Always. _Dean stared at the empty bed, hoping that wherever he was, the 'psychic wonder' that was his Sammy could somehow hear his mental reassurances.

"_Officer Johnson!" _

"Wha…? Dean slurred absently as the tinny voice assaulted his ears. Then he remembered. "Oh! Sorry…um, did you find out anything?" he recovered quickly.

"_Officer Johnson, I'm sorry, but there is no spear on the list of confiscated weapons. I checked it twice over. Nor were there any photos of a spear to be found. And the photos of the weapons seized corresponded exactly with the weapons on the list."_

Dean paused to regain his composure and keep his voice from cracking before finishing the call. "Okay…um, thanks very much, that's all I needed to know." He hung up before the woman could reply and could barely muster enough restraint to keep from slamming the phone down. "DAMN IT!" he screamed to the empty room. He didn't care if he'd just woken the entire motel; he was too beyond frustrated and upset. The spear hadn't been among the weapons taken, so that meant that it was put somewhere else before the bust had occurred. And the only one who would know where that somewhere else was located was the busted man himself – Gordon Walker. _Shit!_

Dean's cell phone rang and he sprang toward the nightstand to answer it, nearly knocking off the lamp in his lunge for it. _Maybe the woman's calling to tell me she found the spear after all… _"Hello?"

"_Dean?"_ Dusty Bennett's gruff voice echoed over the receiver. _"Did ya find anything on the spear?"_

_Damn it! _Dean cursed himself mentally for the rush of false hope. _You called the cops on the _motel's _phone, you moron! Why would they call your cell back?! And why would you use your cell to call the cops in the first place?! _He turned his attention back to Dusty after simmering down. "No…got a hold of the people in charge of confiscated stuff; no dice. The spear wasn't there when Gordon got nailed. Which means that bastard is the only one who knows where it is."

"_Damn… So what're ya gonna do, then?"_

Dean's face hardened. "I'm gonna go pay ol' Gordy a little visit and make him talk. Make him tell me where that spear is."

"_Dean…I don't know if that's a good idea… Where's the guy locked up?"_

"Indiana State Prison, and it _is _a good idea. I'll get him to tell me where that spear is if I have to bail him out and beat it out of him. I gotta get on the road, talk to ya after the job's done."

"_Dean, ya—"_

Dean disconnected the call, already having started to gather the necessary things for his five-hour-drive to Indiana. He knew walking into a prison wasn't the best idea in the world for a wanted man such as himself, but he wouldn't be walking in _as_ himself. Trusty Officer Johnson would do the walking for him. And if the prison officials ever found out that there wasn't an officer by that name, by the time they did, Dean would be long gone. And so what if Gordon blabbed his true identity? Just one more item to add to the rap sheet of the unstoppable renegade that was Dean Winchester.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Miles away, Sam Winchester sighed wearily as a shadow filled the doorway to the cellar. The bitch was back.

"Just wanted to give you some breakfast before I start charging up for the day, Sammy dear," Odessa greeted her prisoner, coming down the stairs with a bowl of oatmeal and glass of water. "Wouldn't want you wasting away to nothing before big brother comes to your rescue, would we?"

Sam just stared at the floor for a minute more before finally glaring up at her and speaking. "You lied," he growled.

Odessa was taken aback and sat the food on the floor, pulling up the chair that Dracon had occupied hours earlier. "Lied? Why, Sam…whatever about?"

"Dracon came in here earlier and told me everything, you're not even gonna _let_ Dean save me! You're gonna kill me in front of him just because you sick freaks get off on causing that kind of pain!" Sam shouted angrily.

Odessa smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say, Sammy? Dracon wasn't bluffing." _And damn him for telling you! _"You are indeed going to die as Dean watches…sorry. But you see, you have no right to talk because as I recall, your brother 'got off' pretty well on killing one of my kind months ago! Just as he did on helping your father kill _three_ of my kind, including my dear Pribram, thirteen years ago!" Odessa calmed herself and stood, walked behind Sam, then slid her arms around his neck and down to his chest. He turned his head to the side, avoiding her, but she nuzzled her face closer into his neck, speaking against it. "So tell me, my sweet boy…why shouldn't we put your brother through the exact same pain he put us through?"

To Odessa's dismay, Sam remained stoic and unresponsive, even as she let her hands roam all over his chest and deeply breathed in his warm, heady scent. "Sammy…? Speak, love. You have such a gorgeous voice, after all."

Sam scowled darkly. The drugs he'd been given had by now run their course; his emotions were back under control…and he was pissed. "Fine. Try this – Screw. You. Bitch. …Happy?"

Odessa laughed, bringing her hands up to turn Sam's head until his eyes were locked with hers. "Oh, Sammy… Don't tempt me. I was never good at resisting temptation…especially when it has such a beautiful face and body as yours."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, ya know," Sam bit out.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Yes, I know…but who needs flattery when you've got duct tape!" she chuckled, bending down to pick up the bowl of oatmeal. "Now," she said, sitting in the chair, "you need something in your stomach. Wouldn't want you wasting away to nothing before…let's see. Oh, right! Your big death scene in front of big brother…_would we_?" She smiled and brought a spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth. "Now, open up for me…"

Sam curtly turned his head away. "Yeah, right. How about you free up my arms instead so I can freakin' feed myself!" He glared at Odessa. "Last time I checked, I was_ twenty_-three, not _three_…which I'm grateful for seein' as how you devour little kids!"

"Oh, Sammy, like I told your brother, it's not that time of decade yet…and as for your request? You ought to know that I know better than to do that. You might try to escape," she crooned, purposely dripping the contents of the spoon down his chest. "Oops! Let me clean that off for you." Sam shut his eyes in disgust as she used her mouth to do the job, still working her lips long after the oatmeal was gone.

"You know…" she said, leering up at him, "you taste just as good as you look. Too bad it _isn't_ that time of decade."

"You're freakin' sick, you bitch," Sam spat. "If I'm gonna die anyway, I'd rather go by starvation than in front of my brother! You can take that shit in the bowl and go choke on it yourself!"

Again, Odessa seemed startled by his outburst, but recovered quickly and relented. "Fine. You'll be begging for it soon enough." She sat the bowl aside. "But no food, no water either," she said calmly and dumped the liquid in the glass onto the ground. It caused a distraught look to pass over Sam's formerly steady features.

"Aw, don't worry, Sammy," she cooed, sitting on his lap and threading her fingers through his soft chestnut hair. "There's always dinnertime." She turned his head and forced his lips to hers before finally heading back up the stairs.

_Finally!_ Sam was beginning to think she'd _never _leave…

He waited for a minute and then looked down at his restraints, thinking back to what Odessa had said when she first came in, something about, 'charging up for the day'. Sam didn't remember the exact words, but he didn't have to. Because he remembered what his father's journal and Dean had said about familiars – they slept during the day. Sam smiled to himself._ I don't think so, bitch. I don't plan to still be here for dinner. _

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Oh, now, come on! Certainly ya'll didn't think that Sammy was going to sit there and be the helpless victim, did ya? No way, not our boy…he's got nothin' to lose, after all! And big bro Dean is headed for a pretty big confrontation come next chapter…in case that wasn't made clear in this one, LOL. Oh and, sidenote...Officers Clay and Riggleman? 'Twas a little shoutout to my alma mater, the University of Charleston in Charleston, West Virginia! Two of the buildings had those names, heehee. Anyways, hope all of you enjoyed and thanks as usual to my readers/reviewers and to psiChic for the beta and encouragement on a couple of issues. You rock, my LLS! 'Til next chapter, folks. :-)


	19. Chapter 19

DISCLAIMER: So I got back in contact with Kripke again, told him – no, make that _begged_ him – to give me _Supernatural_, emphatically stated that he absolutely needed to do so! Well…apparently, the only thing less effective than that reverse psychology I previously attempted is _straightforward_ psychology! (sigh)

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ is up for grabs!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _He waited for a minute and then looked down at his restraints, thinking back to what Odessa had said when she first came in, something about, 'charging up for the day'. Sam didn't remember the exact words, but he didn't have to. Because he remembered what his father's journal and Dean had said about familiars – they slept during the day. Sam smiled to himself. _I don't think so, bitch. I don't plan to still be here for dinner.

**Chapter 19**

In the afternoon sun, a grizzled man sat in his truck waiting for visiting hours at Indiana State Prison to begin. He hoped he had managed to arrive in time to get the information he desired…specifically, before anyone else did. And fortunately, he believed he had gotten a head start in that endeavor. _Two minutes… _He opened the creaky door and stepped out into the parking lot, wincing as his knees creaked as loud as the door had. _I'm gettin' too old for this shit… _But there was no time to worry about that now. There was someone he needed to talk to within those walls. Immediately. He strolled up to the building, casually nodding at passer-bys as he walked, then stepped inside through the numerous metal detectors. He found his way to the people in charge at last and stated his business. "I'm an old friend of Gordon Walker's, heard he was here...I'd like to visit with him."

The prison official surveyed him briefly and could find nothing suspicious. "ID, please?"

The man dug one of his many fake IDs out of his wallet and handed it to the official. _God, it's been a while since I've used these babies… _He allowed the official to inspect him and take one last look before approving his visit. "Very well…have a seat over there and a guard will—"

"I'm familiar with the procedure, thank ya," the man assured in a friendly tone. The official nodded and walked away, leaving him to take a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic orange chairs that reminded him quite a bit of the chairs in hospitals, of which he had seen many in his day. Just like a hospital, around him sat family members and friends, anxiously waiting to speak to those they knew. Only in this place, there was no chance of release. The man was anxious himself, but not only about the conversation he would soon have – that was the least of his problems. The biggest problem was that he didn't even know what the man he was visiting as an 'old friend of his' looked like! It would be an experience, of that he was sure. But it was one he was willing to endure. He and Gordon Walker may have never met as of yet, but both men already had a few things in common. That was all that mattered.

"Gordon Walker," a voice called over an intercom. "Room 3."

The man got up and walked into the soundproof chamber, sitting down to face the dark-skinned hunter through the glass. He registered the non-recognition in Gordon's distrustful and cold eyes. This looked like a man who didn't like to be messed with. _Oh well…_ He picked up the phone."Gordon Walker?"

Gordon stared at the old man before him a moment before answering. "Yeah. Who the hell are you?"

"A friend," was all the man answered.

"Well," Gordon said coldly, "got a name…'friend'?

"Ben Williams," he replied. "I'm a hunter, such as yourself." He noticed Gordon's eyebrow quirking. "Do you by any chance happen to know a young man named Sam Winchester?"

Gordon's exasperated expression darkened immediately. "Do I know him?" he asked incredulously. "I have good reason to believe that that boy and his brother were the sons of a bitch who put me in here!" he snarled.

"S'what I thought," he said with a slow nod. "Shame ya didn't succeed when ya tried to kill the kid...heard ya did try."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, "but let's get one thing straight here." His voice was low and dangerous. "He's not a _kid_…he's a monster, not even a 'he'. Sam Winchester is an 'it'! Just like any supernatural creature out there is! Psychic abilities now…demon's bad little soldier later." Gordon slammed his fist down. "And I'm the only one who can see past that innocent boyish face…he's got everyone else snowed, including his idiot older brother." He shook his head. "The psychics were born to be evil, and Sam is one of them. He has to die."

Ben Williams took all of Gordon's words in, especially the last sentence. "Well…if ya play your cards right, the freak _will _be as good as dead." Now he really had Gordon's attention.

"Really… Well then, deal me in," Gordon said with an icy smirk. "And _fill_ me in while you're at it."

Ben matched his smirk. "Will do. Seems poor lil' Sammy's gone and got 'imself kidnapped by some nasty creatures called humanoid familiars. Heard of 'em?" He continued when Gordon nodded. "His big brother's frantic of course…seems the head bitch of the familiars gave 'im an ultimatum – bring 'er the only weapons that can kill 'er kind or lil' Sammy gets done in."

"Spears," Gordon smiled. "Spears are the only things that can kill humanoid familiars. Special ones."

"Exactly," Ben confirmed. "So, 'course Dean's lookin' to get the spears. Now, I heard he's already got one…but I have it on good authority that you got the other."

"I do," Gordon stated proudly. "Stole it from some old nothin' of a former hunter. Easily, too…guy won't miss it. He's obviously past his prime anyway."

Ben Williams gave a tight smile. "And that brings us to the present. I came here to help, Gordon. I'm with ya that Sam Winchester needs to die. And I can assure that he does if ya tell me where to find that spear. Get it far outta the reach of Dean's hands, lock it away, and Sammy's six feet under before we know it."

"I like the sound of that…" Gordon crooned. "Only sorry I couldn't have been the one to do it, but…dead is dead. You've got yourself a deal," the imprisoned man approved, and let the secret spill.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A half hour after the grizzled old hunter's truck had pulled out of the prison lot, Dean and his Impala screeched in, both on a full-throttle mission to save the youngest Winchester. Dean parked and checked his disguise in the mirror. _God, I look like a freak with a mustache…_The added facial hair was a precaution for Dean, even though he had no mustache in his ID picture. But it would work anyway. A man had a right to grow and shave those as he pleased, and the prison officials would understand that. And if the policeman's uniform didn't convince them, nothing would! At least that's what he hoped, because the last place Dean Winchester needed to be walking into was a prison…he was sure Henricksen would only be too happy to put him in one permanently one day! But he would go anyway, he would walk through a prison, he would walk through hell and face the devil himself if that was what it took to save his baby brother. And knowing who was kept behind the walls in front of him, Dean decided he wasn't too far off from doing just that. "Wish me luck, baby," Dean whispered, patting his Impala on the hood before heading toward the entrance. _Sammy's life depends on it… _

Upon arrival, Dean – as Officer Brian Johnson, of course – was informed that visiting hours were almost over; he had made it just in time. He could've sworn he heard the official mutter something about Gordon being a 'pretty popular guy today', but he dismissed it. That is, until those words were thrown right back in his face as he stared into the eyes of the man who had almost killed his younger brother without sympathy or remorse.

"Looks like I'm a pretty popular guy today."

Dean wanted to punch the smirk right off of the sadistic hunter's face, but the detached police officer in him for disguise purposes restrained the clenched fist from busting a hole in the glass. _What the hell does he mean by that…? _"Gordon Walker? A word with you, if you don't mind," Dean greeted casually in a deep, drawling voice that wasn't his.

"Not at all, Officer," he responded, and then paused, studying the young man through the glass intensively. An easy, familiar grin passed over his face as he looked his visitor in the eye. "Actually, let me take that back. I _do_ mind…Dean Winchester."

Dean's mouth wanted to drop open in anguish, but he didn't let his disappointment in Gordon's recognition of him show. "Excuse me, sir?" he said confusedly.

"Don't play games with me, Dean," Gordon countered smoothly. "You think I'd ever forget the face of one of the bastards who put me in this God-forsaken hellhole? Oh and, nice 'stache, by the way." He made a show of looking over Dean's shoulder. "So, where's your six-foot-four shadow, Winchester? Poor little Sammy's not too traumatized to come visit me just 'cause I almost splattered his guts all over that shack…is he?" He chuckled as Dean's expression remained stoic except for the hard set of his jaw. "Oh wait, that's right…he's about to die at the hands of a group of familiars because his big brother can't find a certain spear…how could I forget."

Dean's steady face crumbled in shock and his heart dropped to his feet. "You…how the hell did you know that, you son of a bitch?" he could barely spit out.

"Ah, now _that's_ the Dean I know and hate," Gordon smiled wickedly. "Had a friend come by not too long before you did…another sensible hunter who realizes that Sammy needs to die." He reveled in the murderous glare Dean shot him. "And, unlike I'm gonna do for you…I told him the location of the spear. He's going to get it and he'll make sure it never gets within an inch of you, Dean." Gordon met the younger hunter's glower. "And then, well…sayonara, Sammy."

Dean's knuckles turned white with fury as they gripped the phone. "You freakin' sick bastard, you'd better go back to court and beg for life in prison if you didn't get it, 'cause I'm gonna kill you when you get out!" he raged.

"Promises, promises, Dean," he replied coolly, unknowingly echoing Odessa's words to Dean in the woods. "Ya know," he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "sort of like poetic justice, isn't it?" He sneered at Dean. "A freak killed by freaks…I like it."

Dean called on every ounce of resistant strength he had to keep himself from breaking through the glass and strangling the life out of the grinning nutjob on the other side of it. It almost wasn't enough. "You psychotic piece of shit, if you don't—"

A loud buzzer and Gordon's laid-back voice cut off Dean's rant. "Gotta go, Dean. Visiting hours are over. Do leave some flowers on Sammy's grave for me." Without a look back at a fuming Dean, Gordon walked through the door of the soundproof chamber and allowed the guard to escort him back to his cell, smiling to himself the whole way.

"Son of a BITCH!" Dean yelled to the empty chamber and slammed down the phone, not caring if there was damage done. He mustered up a casual air as he exited the building, giving out smiles and nods when he received them, and waited until he was safely inside of the Impala before ripping off his itchy fake mustache and letting loose a torrent of curses, all of them aimed at Gordon and Odessa except for the few that were reserved for the intrusive bastard who got to Gordon before him. How _dare _someone who'd never even met Sam think they had the right to decide his fate?! Dean peeled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, still seething. _What am I gonna do now…? _He turned his cell phone back on, intending to place a call to the Roadhouse, but a loud beeping halted his fingers. _Two new messages…both from Dusty. Huh. Might as well. _Dean put the phone up to his ear and listened.

"_Hey Dean, this is Dusty here. Look, I dunno quite how to begin this, but I couldn't shake the feelin' that you goin' to talk to that Gordon fella was a big mistake waitin' to happen. So I got the lead out an' paid the bastard a visit myself…posed as a friend 'a his, a kindred spirit in wantin' your brother dead. Glad to tell ya that the ol' asshole sang like a mockingbird. Gave me complicated directions n' shit to the place where the spear is, but he said somethin' that makes me think ya won't need 'em. Said the spear's holed up where he once set a deathtrap for Sam…kinda figure that's a place ya probably haven't been able to forget. I'm hangin' out at a diner 'bout twenty miles comin' back from the prison…called 'Elaine's Eatery', right on the side of the road, can't miss it. Meet me there if ya get this. Over and out."_

Dean had nearly lost control of the Impala a mere one-fourth of the way through the message. Dusty had been Gordon's visitor! Relief washed over Dean in bigger and bigger waves as the message played on and when it was over, he was practically drowning in the emotion. Followed closely by gratitude. Dusty had really saved his ass – and Sam's by default – on this one, and Dean would never be able to repay the man enough for what he had done for them both. And what he had yet to do. Dean was now more than happy to accept Dusty's continued help. He played the second message with a much less heavy heart.

"_Dean, it's Dusty again. I'm still here at the diner, plan on bein' here 'til 'bout two. If ya get this 'fore then, come on over, if ya don't, give me a call when ya do. But whatever ya do, make sure ya get my first message. That's where the good stuff is. Talk to ya soon."_

Dean could practically hear the smile in the old hunter's voice on the second to last sentence. And he had every right to be proud of himself in Dean's book. He smiled fondly to himself. _You may be getting older, Dusty, but you're sure as hell still in the game. _

When Dean reached the diner with still forty minutes to spare, Dusty stood up from the booth with two bags of to-go food in his hands. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Dusty held up one of those hands and smiled. "No thanks necessary, Dean. For any of it." He returned Dean's emotion-filled nod. "Good. Now let's go get that spear and save your brother."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Heehee, Gordy got _suckered_! LOL. I enjoyed writing that. Any guy who relies on a nutcase like that Kubrick dude back in _BdaBR_ has sucker potential, LOL! Ruthless deranged hunter or not! Oh and, for the record, I have no prison experience – which is a good thing, LOL! – so I hope the visitations read well anyway! Thanks as always to my readers/reviewers and to my awesome LLS, who betas like no other! (as I think she once said of me, LOL) See ya'll next chapter, where we'll see what our sly (puppy)dog Sammy has up his sleeve! ;-)


	20. Chapter 20

DISCLAIMER: You know, I really wish I could just own _Supernatural _already, 'cause I'm fast running out of creative/hopefully-humorous ways to say that I don't! Kripke, a little help here…? Please?

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_ may get a little shout-out throughout!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _When Dean reached the diner with still forty-five minutes to spare, Dusty stood up from the booth with two bags of to-go food in his hands. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Dusty held up one of those hands and smiled. "No thanks necessary, Dean. For any of it." He returned Dean's emotion-filled nod. "Good. Now let's go get that spear and save your brother."_

**Chapter 20**

_Almost there, almost there… _Sam repeated the mantra over and over in his head as he continued to chew at the duct tape on his right wrist. It was beginning to break, and that was definitely worth the God-awful taste that Sam had in his mouth. He had been waiting for dawn to start this particular escape plan. Numerous tooth marks on his restraints would've certainly been noticeable to Odessa and her clan, but now, they were finally asleep and couldn't see what he was doing. He knew he would be in deep trouble if he wasn't out before the sunset, but what he figured would be a sound beating – most likely courtesy of Dracon – was still worth the attempt.

_Almost there, almost there… _His heart skipped a beat when he heard and felt a particularly loud rip.

Sam lifted his head to give his neck a brief stretch, then dove right back in and pulled with all his might. He let out a low cry of joy when he felt the pressure on his wrist ease as the tape finally broke all the way across. He wrenched his arm off the arm of the chair, rotated it a couple of times to get the feeling back in his stiff joints and muscles, then used it to rip the duct tape off of his left wrist. Repeating the motion with that arm, he finally set to work on his ankles and exhaled with unabashed relief as he felt the last piece of tape give way. Sam was free.

"No," he quietly corrected himself with the empty room as his audience, "not free yet…gotta get out of here and away from them…gotta get back to Dean."

He shakily got to his feet, his legs and body stiff and numb from being in the same position for so long, having to grab onto the back of the chair to keep himself from tipping over a couple of times. He stretched, bended and exercised his joints, then allowed some time for the now healthily flowing blood to bring feeling back to his extremities as he fixed his shirt back and wiped his sticky face with an old rag he had snatched. Finally feeling confident enough to make his escape, he used the wall for support as he walked slowly toward the stairs. _Now these are gonna be fun… _

Sam steeled himself and took the first step without incident; it seemed everything in his body was working properly now, and he had a handrail to hang onto should things start to go downhill – literally. He continued to the second step, then the third, fourth, only six more to go… _Shit! _He cringed and stilled as the fifth step creaked loudly and sent up a quick prayer to God that it had gone unnoticed by his captors. Cautiously, he put more weight on that foot to bring his other one up to the sixth step, quickly removing himself from the fifth step as soon as he had his bearings. Onto the seventh, eighth, ninth, one more… Sam silently cheered in relief when both of his feet met with the landing. He scrutinized the hallway in front of him. It was empty, but there was no exit.

He took a deep breath and began to pad as quietly as he could down the hardwood-floored corridor, grateful for the first time that he was barefoot instead of wearing heavy shoes. As he crept, Sam noticed that his prison seemed to be a normal house, though a relatively large one. He imagined that it had been quite an impressive and attractive house in its day, but it had since fallen into disrepair. The walls were a medium shade of spring green in color, but that paint was flaking off just as the burgundy paint in the basement was, though maybe not as much. Nails stuck out of the walls where pictures had once hung, the only adornment left being a cracked rectangular mirror that gave Sam the creeps as he remembered when he and Dean had taken on Bloody Mary. The minimal furniture in the hallway was old and worn, the wood floor was also scuffed, nicked, and had lost its sheen long ago. Sam continued down the long hallway carefully, peering into each of the rooms hoping to see an easy exit. Finally, he saw the door. But it was anything but an easy exit.

He stepped warily into the already occupied room, feet treading lightly on the thin cream-colored carpet. Dracon and Odessa lay asleep on the same-colored furniture – him in a recliner, her on the sofa that sat between a large curtained window and the door. The path to the door was not a straight one; in fact, Sam would have to cross the entire room diagonally to get to it. He kept the door in his mind, standing out in stark relief against the dark, plum-colored walls as he inched toward it, but kept his eyes on where he was stepping and the objects he had to navigate around to reach his goal. Standing directly in front of the door, he also stood mere feet away from Odessa. He turned his gaze from her to the doorknob and slowly began to turn it. It made no noise, but that wasn't what he was worried about. He most feared the potential squeak of the door and the rubbing sound the bottom of it would make against the carpet. The lock gave quietly, and Sam apprehensively began to pull the door open. As he feared, it squeaked. Loudly.

Sam instantly stilled and shut his eyes in another prayer as he heard Odessa shift on the couch and moan softly. She didn't wake. Sam thanked God for that and pulled the door another fraction, relieved that the worst of the creaking seemed to be over. But now the door was dragging on the carpet, and that was just as loud. He knew it didn't matter though; there was no turning back now…

Hoping for the best but prepared for the worst, Sam took the necessary risk and gradually eased the door open further and further until he was able to step out into the bright mid-afternoon sun. It warmed every inch of him, inside and out…especially when he remembered thinking that he'd never see the sun again. He turned the outer doorknob and slid the door closed behind him, then slowly released his grip. And the weight finally lifted off his shoulders. _Oh God…oh thank God… _

Sam Winchester was officially free. He quietly walked down the rickety wooden steps of the front porch, then broke out in a dead run to what he hoped was safety…to what he hoped was Dean.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Well now, how about that Sammy? That's our boy, heehee! So now we've got Sammy on the run and Dean on the hunt for the other spear…hopefully the suspense is mounting! Sorry this chapter is a little later in the day than usual, but as long as you still get it on the promised day, right? LOL. Not much else to say except giving those usual thanks to…everyone I usually thank! LOL. You know who you are... Hope ya'll enjoyed, let me know, and stay tuned for the next chapter :-D


	21. Chapter 21

DISCLAIMER: There I was, standing outside Kripke's door; shoulders slumped, bottom lip stuck out, eyes sad, hoping he would give me _Supernatural_ to make me feel better! But all he did upon seeing my needy face was toss me an oversized shoe…I apparently looked like I'd lost one of mine…

SPOILERS: Anything before _Folsom Prison Blues_…keep that in mind before reading this chapter!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Sam Winchester was officially free. He quietly walked down the rickety wooden steps of the front porch, then broke out in a dead run to what he hoped was safety…to what he hoped was Dean._

**Chapter 21**

"Ya know, right after Sam and I left this town, I thought to myself that if I ever come back here, it'd be all too soon," Dean grumbled on the phone to Dusty as the Impala rolled through Lafayette, Indiana. It was nothing against the town itself, it was just that the events that had happened there weren't exactly Dean's best memories. Watching Sam nearly get shot by Gordon, being knocked out himself by Gordon on the motel rooftop, having the sadistic bastard tie him up and torment him with his 'why and how I'm going to kill your brother' speech, and the worst part – helplessly listening to a pair of grenades go off and thinking that Sammy had been blown to bits. And then almost getting shot again. Yes, Lafayette, Indiana was definitely not one of Dean's favorite locales. "Reeeaally don't like this place, ya know."

"_I imagine not…so, we comin' up on that shack?"_

"So close I can practically smell it," Dean replied with a sigh. Just thinking of the old shack still sent a chill up his spine. Of course he was relieved to have the knowledge of where the spear was being kept, but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder…why _there_? Of all places? "Why did Gordon have to leave the thing at that damn shack…?" Dean didn't realize he'd actually vocalized the thought until Dusty answered him, a hint of self-reproach in his gruff tone.

"_Prob'ly learned from my mistake…don't leave a rare weapon in your unoccupied vehicle." _

Dean shook his head. "Cut that out, man…no way you coulda known what was gonna happen," he reassured, not waiting for a response. "I see the shack up ahead, now. I'm hanging up, just follow my lead."

"_Roger that."_

Dean eased the Impala into a makeshift parking spot on the side of the narrow road – probably the same place where Gordon had parked his car. The thought gave him shivers. Dusty's truck pulled up behind him and he was out the door in a flash. Dean barely registered him talking as he stared at the shack before him.

"So this is the place? What a dump! I mean, if I was gonna…hey, Dean? You okay, son?" Then he remembered. This shack was once a deathtrap for Dean's little brother. "Stupid question." He put an understanding hand on Dean's shoulder. "Listen, son, if ya wanna stay out here, I can go in and find that spear myself, I don't—"

"No, no…" Dean finally snapped out of it. "I'll go in with you, we'll find it sooner with two people looking for it than with just one. I can handle it." To prove his point, he walked without looking back to the door of the shack, but froze when he got inside. The chair that he had been tied to was still in the middle of the room, not a thing had changed in the shack's appearance. Dean stood entranced by the chair, seeing himself tied to it again, hearing the explosions that he had been sure were the death of his baby brother, feeling the same unbridled fear and shock.

"Dean," Dusty came up behind him. "C'mon, son…we gotta get a move on an' find that thing."

"Yeah…" Dean tore his eyes away from the chair and complied. Both men began sifting through various piles of junk and debris, hoping to find the spear concealed behind one of them. They searched in silence for several minutes, each consumed with their own thoughts, until Dean finally broke the silence. "He tied me up in here, ya know."

Dusty was startled by the sudden sound of Dean's voice, as well as his admission. "Gordon?" He looked over at Dean to see him nod. "Damn…well, what did he do to ya…if ya don't mind my askin' that? Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Yeah, so Sammy always tells me," Dean laughed softly. "Gordon…he didn't do anything to me…except talk. Talk on and on about how Sam needed to die and how he was gonna kill him. Freakin' bastard…tried to…" he trailed off.

"Tried to what, Dean?" Dusty pushed gently.

"Tried to blow Sam apart." He nodded at the shocked expression on Dusty's face. "Yeah…set two tripwires so that when Sam came in the back door he'd trigger grenades. Didn't work, though, of course…bastard shoulda known he couldn't outsmart Sammy," Dean said with pride in his voice and a wistful smile. "He is college-boy, after all."

"Your brother sounds like a pretty amazing kid," Dusty said softly.

"Yeah," Dean smiled and nodded. "He sure is." _The most amazing person I know. _

The men resumed silence for a few minutes as they continued their search. Dusty thought that Dean seemed to be feeling better now for getting his thoughts off his chest. He decided it would be good for him to do the same. "Dean…it may not be my place to be askin' this, an' if you don't wanna talk about it, I'll understand, but…when I was talkin' to Gordon, he kept blabbin' on that Sam was like any other supernatural creature out there an' that's why he went after 'im…mentioned psychic abilities an' somethin' 'bout bein' a demon's soldier. What's that all about?"

Dean tensed immediately. He trusted Dusty, but he had been hoping that this topic wouldn't come up, nonetheless. He'd had a feeling that Gordon had told Dusty everything, thinking he was an ally. Now he had to make sure Dusty heard the truth to counteract the lies. "That asshole tell you all this?" Dusty nodded. "Well, he has no idea what he's talkin' about even though he _thinks_ he does." He paused and took a deep breath. "Sam does have psychic abilities…he gets visions of things that are or will be happening sometimes, people dying. But he uses those visions to do good, to try and save those people. And Gordon doesn't care about that, he just automatically condemns Sam for simply having the abilities in the first place no matter _what_ he does with them!" Dean sighed heavily and calmed his tone. "He only sees Sam for _what_ Sam is – a psychic, whom he assumes are all evil. Because if he sees Sam for _who_ Sam really is – a person who believes in and does more good than a bastard like Gordon could ever comprehend – then that would make him wrong. That would mean there're shades of gray, and he's convinced that only black and white exists in the hunting world…although I sometimes wonder if he even believes in the 'white' part anymore," Dean added, shaking his head. "Point is, he's completely wrong about Sam, and he probably knows it. But he denies it all the way, 'cause he can't stand to be wrong."

Dusty listened intently to Dean's words, understanding exactly where he was coming from. "How could somebody be so dumb as to see the huntin' world in black n' white?" He could see Dean's shoulders sag with relief as soon as he asked. "I ain't come across many good supernatural beings, but I'm sensible 'nough to know that not all of 'em are evil. An' I'm certainly sane enough to see that Sam is a _person_, not a creature…'course I guess all people are technically creatures, but…ya get my point."

"Damn right," Dean concurred emphatically.

"You ever met any?"

"Any what?" Dean asked curiously.

"Any non-evil supernatural creatures," Dusty answered.

"Yeah," Dean immediately admitted. "First time I met one, I didn't even know it. It was when I first met Gordon; he had me seeing in even more stark black and white than I usually did. Thank God Sammy was there to set me straight…he's always seeing the good in things and people before the bad, ya know?" he said, eyes glassing over with emotion. "Anyway, they were vampires, but it turned out that they didn't kill people…drank cattle's blood instead. We'd taken on vampires that killed humans before, just like I was sure all 'em did, so I didn't believe Sam at first when he told me. I was gonna kill 'em…did kill one of 'em…but like I said, Sam got through to me. Pissed Gordon off of course, so he grabbed and cut Sam and tried to get the head of the pack to drink his blood…needless to say, that's when ol' Gordy lost the Dean Winchester vote of confidence," Dean said dryly. "And the vampire, Lenore…she didn't drink. She resisted…proved herself good just as Gordon proved himself evil."

"Wow," Dusty breathed in amazement. "That sure is somethin' else."

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly. "Definitely taught me a new lesson. And as much as it was hard to think that way sometimes, I saw other things—_supernatural beings_," he corrected, "that weren't evil. Actually got helped by a ghost up in Baltimore, gave us clues that helped us figure out there was a corrupt cop murdering people who knew his dirty secrets. Then not too long ago there was another ghost, woman named Molly who died in a car crash…first ghost we helped instead of hunted."

"That so?" Dusty said with intrigue.

"Yep…no salt n' burn for that gal. Sammy helped her move on, J. Love Hewitt style."

"Well, I'll be damned…" the older hunter remarked, then paused. "J. Love Hewitt…?"

Dean grinned. "Modern day TV, Dusty. You should check it out some time."

"Hell, son, my TV's only got six channels," Dusty laughed. "I'm more of a reader than a watcher."

"Well, you and Sammy would get along like gangbusters, then. Kid's always got his face in a book or in front of a computer – veritable research nut. God knows he and his laptop are attached at the hip...though my baby and I have a more established relationship, of course."

"Your baby?"

"My car."

"Ah…gotcha." Dusty was silent for a moment as he sorted through a pile of boxes. "Dean? Again, you don't have to answer this, but, uh…do you believe in God? Just wonderin' 'cause ya just used the phrase 'God knows', s'all."

Dean hesitated with his answer. "I…I don't really know. I used not to at all, but…I guess my non-faith isn't as strong as it used to be. Still won't say I concretely do, but, uh…I don't know." He swallowed thickly. "Sammy believes, always has for whatever reason. Still prays every night, even after his faith took kind of a hit a while back," Dean said, remembering the incident in Rhode Island with Father Gregory. "Like I said, that's how Sammy is…always has faith, always sees and believes in good. And so much horrible shit has happened to him, but…the kid's still like that anyway," Dean finished, his eyes full of admiration and love for his brother.

"Good for him," Dusty said sincerely. "S'hard for a hunter to have faith when they deal with nothin' but evil day after day. But ya do have to believe there's a greater good out there, Dean. If ya don't, huntin'll bring ya down, make ya cold…like Gordon, I guess. If ya find somethin' in your life that reminds ya there's pure good in the world, ya gotta hang onto it like a lifeline, put in your heart…let it be your strength." He paused and sighed mournfully. "I had a wife, once. Thought it'd be best for 'er if I let 'er go 'stead of hangin' on after I got too deep into this life. Sent 'er away…then, 'fore I knew it, I'd lost 'er to a sudden illness."

"I'm sorry," Dean uttered sympathetically.

"S'all right. I keep 'er memory with me. Lord knows it's nothin' like the real thing, but…it helps," Dusty replied with a sad smile. "You find your strength, Dean, an' you hang on to it."

Dean looked down at the floor, and then looked back up at Dusty confidently. "I've already found my strength."

Dusty smiled. "Sammy, right…?"

Dean refrained from correcting him; Dusty had earned his place as a Winchester friend, and with that, the right to use Sam's nickname…in _some_ moments. "Yeah," Dean breathed out, the emotion in his voice palpable.

The older hunter's smile widened in approval. "S'what I thought." He was ready to get down to business now. "Well then, let's stop flappin' our gums an' get a move on so ya can get your strength back, son."

"Sounds good!" Dean enthusiastically agreed, flashing his first true smile ever since Sam's abduction. Dusty's talk had done him a world of good. He thought of how much the old hunter reminded him of Bobby Singer, one of John's former mentors and the loyal family friend that had helped both father and sons through many a hunt. Dean was even beginning to think that they could be related. _Couldn't hurt… _"Hey, Dusty?" The addressed man gave a grunt in response. "You ever heard of or met a hunter named Bobby Singer?"

Dusty thought on it. "Um, don't think so…why?"

"Nothin'. You two should meet one day, though," Dean proposed. "You'd get along great."

"Think so?"

"Yeah, he's an older hunter like you, loves books and hunting…been a real good family friend to us."

"Sounds like my kinda guy," Dusty concurred. "You n' Sam'll have to introduce me to 'im one day."

Dean kept quiet about it, but he was filled with appreciation when Dusty included Sam in the statement. The old hunter had faith that they would get Dean's baby brother back alive, and that meant a great deal to him. "Yeah, we will."

Dusty nodded, went quiet for a moment, then stepped into the room toward the back door and came out holding an object he had retrieved from there. "Huh," he said, eyeing it curiously. "Somebody left one beat up lookin' shoe in this dump."

Dean stopped in his tracks. It was Sam's shoe, the one he had taken off to use in activating the tripwires prematurely. Most of the shoe was blackened and sooty, but there was no blood on it. Proof that Sam had outsmarted Gordon and survived his deathtrap. "I'll take that," Dean said, reaching out to grab the shoe. Dusty relinquished it, but gave him a confused look. "It's my brother's shoe…the one he used to make the tripwires go off and trick Gordon."

"Well, I'll be," Dusty stated, clearly impressed. "That is one smart kid brother you got there, son."

"Damn straight," Dean said, flinging a sheet that had been formerly covered with objects since removed by him out of its resting place. His face suddenly split into a wide grin and he stood up to face Dusty, the accomplished expression still on his face…the coveted spear in his hand. "Now, let's go save him."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Well, looks like it's Dean to the rescue now! Of course, little does big bro know that Sammy's already gotten _himself_ out of trouble! But…can he _stay_ out of it? Find out next chapter! Thanks as always to my readers and reviewers, love hearing from you! And a big hug to my LLS for the insightful – and amusing, heehee – beta work! 'Kay, that's all for now…everyone enjoy the new episode tonight :-D


	22. Chapter 22

DISCLAIMER: It's my dad's birthday today, and it's times like this I wish I had mind control! 'Cause if I did, I'd have him wish for _me_ to own _Supernatural_ when he blew out the candles on his cake! But as it is, I'll have to wait for my own birthday…in the month of May…so far, far away… Heehee, triple-rhyme score. ;-)

SPOILERS: None for this chapter, but anything before _Folsom Prison Blues_ throughout…as you all have by now clearly seen, I'm sure!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"Damn straight," Dean said, flinging a sheet that had been formerly covered with objects since removed by him out of its resting place. His face suddenly split into a wide grin and he stood up to face Dusty, the accomplished expression still on his face…the coveted spear in his hand. "Now, let's go save him."_

**Chapter 22**

Sam had lost count of how many minutes – or had they already turned to _hours_ – he'd been walking. To his dismay, instead of there being a straight shot to some road that he could find help on, the house where he had been imprisoned was surrounded by thick woods. He had no idea how far he'd come or how far he had yet to go before he found civilization; all the trees were beginning to look the same. He was pretty sure that he was lost, although he suspected that he'd been lost all along. He wanted to do nothing more than sit down at the base of some tree and rest, not to mention pick the countless sticks, leaves, and pebbles from where they were stuck on and/or embedded in the pads of his feet. But he figured if anything that he should just keep moving. About five minutes after that thought, though, a particularly sharp stone changed that philosophy. Painfully.

"AGH!" Sam cried out and stumbled sideways gracelessly, landing against a tree trunk and sliding down to the ground. He held his right leg out from his body and breathed heavily as he rode through the stinging pain in his foot, eventually pulling it toward him to inspect the damage. A medium-sized, but rather deep cut was now bleeding profusely, just above the not-so-protective tattoo. "A lot of good _that_ thing did me," he muttered bitterly. He remembered he had stuffed the rag he'd wiped his face with in his back pocket for whatever reason; it would have to do. Sam tied the tattered teal cloth as tightly as he could around his foot, hoping to staunch the blood flow as much as possible until the natural healing processes of his body took over. _With_ _my luck the damn thing will probably get infected… Or no, my _Winchester _luck, a Wendigo will smell the blood from twenty miles away and decide it's dinnertime. _

He sat at the base of the tree for about twenty minutes, and then got up and headed the way he had been walking again, hoping it was leading him somewhere worthwhile. The trek was now much more painful than it had been thanks to the cut on his foot, but he would have to manage.

About a half an hour later, he came upon a wonderful sight. It was a road – a real, paved, white-and-yellow-lined, honest-to-God road. He limped toward it elatedly, eagerly awaiting the moment when a car came by and he could ask for help. Until that moment came, he decided he would walk along the road rather than just sit there, keeping to the grassy part to the side of it since it was softer on his feet than the asphalt. After a few minutes, he finally heard the blessed sound – the rumbling of the engine of an approaching car. Sam had a faint hope inside his heart that it would be a black 1967 Chevy Impala, but he knew the loud purr of Dean's baby like the back of his own hand, and this didn't sound like her—_it_, whatever. Sam smiled to himself; even he was starting to call it a 'she' half the time. He easily stepped his lanky, six-foot-four frame over the guardrail to get into position to flag down the oncoming car, put a friendly yet appropriately needy expression on his face, and raised an arm. When the car finally came around the bend, he stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that car – more specifically, he knew that car's trunk. _Oh God no…_

Sam bolted to the side, but it was too late. The two occupants of the car had already spotted him. His knees collided painfully with the guardrail, causing him to sink down as he heard the car screech to a halt on the other side of the road and its engine being killed. He pried himself up on wobbly legs and stumbled over the guardrail, praying he'd be able to get away from the owners of two voices he never wanted to hear again.

"Cyrill! It's the kid, he's escaped!"

"I can see that, damn it! We've gotta catch him, moron!"

Sam could hear both pairs of feet pounding the asphalt behind him as he picked himself up off the ground. He was dizzy and weakened from a combination of hunger, thirst, and blood loss, but he knew if Cyrill and Leon caught him, he'd be doomed. He couldn't and didn't take the time to contemplate where to go and why the hell the demented duo were out before the sunset…he just took off running as fast as his already-tired limbs and injured foot could carry him, knowing Cyrill and Leon would be in hot pursuit.

"Yeah, you BETTER run, kid, 'cause when we get a hold of ya, you're DEAD!" Cyrill screamed in fury.

_Thanks for the news bulletin, bastards! _Sam sought the cover of the woods he had been so happy to leave behind just moments ago as part of his getaway plan. Though not as agile as usual, he navigated his way through the trees, moving through the woods in a zigzag pattern with which he hoped to lose Cyrill and Leon. Sam knew that even with his injury and empty stomach, he was younger, stronger, faster, and smarter than the pair, and he was also a hunter, of course. And that training and knowledge tended to come in pretty damn handy in intense situations…

After a good amount of running, he realized that he could no longer hear the pounding of feet behind him, and up ahead, he spied a large gap in the hillside that was overhung by large tree roots. _Perfect! _Sam rushed to the gap and wedged his long frame as securely and invisibly into it as he could manage. Though uncomfortable, he knew it would be a good hiding spot. And as he heard the voices of his pursuers echoing through the woods, he realized he'd found it just in time.

"Saaaaaaaaaammy…come out, come out wherever you are!" Cyrill called in a singsong voice.

"Yeah, kid, we were just playin' around earlier…we ain't _really_ gonna hurt ya," Leon added.

Sam tried to get his fear under control, worrying that the pounding of his heart would give him away as he heard leaves and twigs crunching closer and closer to him under his trackers' feet. He shut his eyes and stilled completely as he heard the pair passing overhead, refraining from jumping when they called out again.

"Heeeeeeeere Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…be a good boy and give yourself up…"

"You better listen to Cyrill, kid," Leon chimed in. "We'll tell Dracon you're out here! He'll find ya…and when he does, he'll smash your pretty face in so bad that not even your big brother will be able to identify ya! So you best be showin' yourself!"

_And you'd best shove that thought up your ugly asses, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum! _Sam silently sighed in relief as they passed over him without even knowing they had done so. He waited a good fifteen minutes until after he had last been able to hear their voices, smirking at the last thing he had heard – Cyrill admonishing Leon for calling out to Sam, even when he had been doing so himself, because it would give away their positions and alert Sam to their presence. _Yeah, brilliant deduction, Sherlock…only took ya an eternity to make. _After peeking his head out and doing a quick scan of the area, Sam cautiously and stealthily left his hiding place with every intention to find his way back to the road and hotwire the idiots' car so he could drive it to safety. _Would serve them right to lose me _and _their car… _He took one last look around and started off in what he hoped was the direction of the road.

After nearly an hour more of walking, Sam was faced with the grim reality that he obviously hadn't chosen the right direction. _Great…my zigzagging didn't confuse _them,_ but it sure as hell confused _me! He definitely didn't recognize this section of the woods and was forced to rethink his previous declaration that all trees looked the same. Sam kept walking, then suddenly stopped and stood stock still, tuning his hearing in to a new sound – the soft trickle of running water. He thought back to being in the trunk. While his sight may have been blurred and his sense of touch compromised, the rest of his senses had still been working perfectly, including hearing. And Sam remembered the distinct change from the sound of tires passing over pavement with a solid base to passing over pavement that spanned a gap in that base. A bridge. And where there was a bridge, there would likely be water.

Sam followed the sound of the water until he came upon a large creek complete with a small waterfall. A creek that he knew he could use to lead him to the road – among other uses. Sam knelt down and scooped the cool water into his hands and splashed it on his dirt-streaked face, removing the stains. He went back for more, but this time he brought the refreshing liquid to his lips and drank greedily – too thirsty to consider whether the clear water was really clean or not, but figuring it was passable enough since the creek wasn't near any potential pollution sources. He repeated this action several more times until his thirst was at last satiated.

Deciding now would be a good time to check his wound, he sat down and gingerly removed the now saturated rag from his foot. Dipping it in the water, he washed the blood from it as best as he could before wiping the area around his wound clean, being careful not to get any water inside of the cut since he was still unsure of the creek's possible bacterial contents. He wringed the rag dry and retied it carefully, satisfied with his progress.

He bent back down to the water to get one more drink for the road – or _before _the road, as the case was – but froze as he saw two more reflections in the water other than his own. _Oh GOD! _

Over the sound of the small waterfall, Sam hadn't even heard Cyrill and Leon approaching. But he had no time to reason that out as a blinding pain shot through his head the instant he had noticed he wasn't alone. As he fell backwards into the creek, the last thing he saw was Cyrill and Leon standing over him, sneering, a large and now bloodied rock in Cyrill's hand.

_Dean! help… _Sam's mind screamed out before all went black.

The duo laughed as Sam's back and head met with the bottom of the creek, the water almost fully submerging him. A small crimson cloud rose from behind Sam's head and seeped into the fanned-out, long dark brown locks that surrounded it like a halo. His equally dark lashes stood out against his paling face. Cyrill looked down on the sight in satisfaction. "Well now…ain't this a pretty picture. Wish I had a camera…think I'd send the picture to his brother." Leon snickered in agreement beside him and then suddenly quieted.

"Uh…Cyrill? If we don't get the kid outta there, he's gonna drown," Leon said apprehensively.

"Why, Leon," the shorter man answered in mock-impression, "that's the first intelligent thing you've said all day!" Leon snorted indignantly in retort. He stepped into the creek, hooked his arms under Sam's, and hoisted him up out of the water, while Cyrill grabbed the boy's legs. Mission accomplished. They had hunted the hunter…and won.

"You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Sammy-boy," Leon sneered, gazing darkly down at the youngest Winchester's still features. "But don't you worry none…'cause your life ain't gonna be lastin' that much longer."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Well, most of you all called the end result of Sammy's escape attempt! The poor kid just can't seem to stay out of trouble, can he? But he sure gave it his all! BTW, the reason Cyrill and Leon are able to be out during the day is because their powers, unlike Odessa's and Dracon's, have yet to develop…this was mentioned briefly back in Chapter 11. Therefore, they don't need to 'charge up' during the day. Rough cliffie, I know, but get used to this! We've reached the beginning of the big climax of this story, so hang onto your seats everyone! Things are gonna get intense! Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, always love to hear from ya'll! And of course, thanks to psiChic, the best beta/LLS a girl could ask for! LOL. Next chapter coming very soon, get ready for a thrill ride, folks :-)


	23. Chapter 23

DISCLAIMER: Ah, _Supernatural_, how do I own thee? Let me count the ways… None, nada, nothing, zip, zilch, zero, big goose egg…in other words – I DON'T OWN IT! But I sure love it anyways!!!

SPOILERS: Anything from the _Pilot_ through _Hollywood Babylon_…don't know how many more ways I can put it!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Sammy-boy," Leon sneered, gazing darkly down at the youngest Winchester's still features. "But don't you worry none…'cause your life ain't gonna be lastin' that much longer."_

**Chapter 23**

Odessa was fuming. This was _not _part of the plan, which had been playing out perfectly up until now. She would not tolerate failure. "I will ask you all once again. How. Did. This. Happen?" she growled threateningly. The two male familiars in front of her shifted their feet nervously. "TALK!"

"I-I…I don't know! We bound that kid to that chair real good, the tape was strong and everything—"

"Well OBVIOUSLY not good or strong ENOUGH!" Odessa roared at Leon and Cyrill.

"He-he's tellin' the truth, ma'am," Cyrill stammered. "We checked those bonds, there's no way that kid coulda pulled 'em off, no way!"

"Well, perhaps the boy may have _bit _them off instead!" Dracon cut in, returning from the cellar holding a piece of the chewed tape. "Did you EVER stop to think that this was a possibility of using _duct tape_, dimwits?!"

Cyrill looked incredulously at Dracon. "Wha…the kid escaped from the ropes when we got him outta the trunk!" he defended. "And the rope thing was all _your _idea, tough guy. So you—"

"SILENCE!" The bickering men turned in synchronized motion to look at Odessa. "This dispute ends _now_. We are all guilty of underestimating the cleverness and strength of Sam Winchester…even me. It will not happen again. Without the boy, we have no control over his brother. He is to remain unharmed until Dean brings the spears, but above all else, he is to remain _here_!" Odessa glared at the three men. "The next time that Sam escapes, there will be hell to pay for all of you, I can assure it. So…you had better make sure that for your sakes, there _is_ no 'next time'." She received unanimous nods in reply. "Good. Cyrill, Leon…you'd best be working on a new way to confine our young prisoner. Dracon…get to work on preparing things for the big night."

The three men went to do as they were told and Odessa turned her attention to the unmoving form that lay on the bed, his hands and feet tied tightly to the posts. "Oh, Sammy…" she sighed, sidling up against him. "Running away? Whatever am I going to do with you?" She brought his head to her shoulder and ran her fingers through his silken hair, being mindful of the small cut on the back of his head that had only recently stopped bleeding. "Wake up for me, Sammy…I wouldn't want you to miss out on any fun." She felt no movement from him, but that didn't lessen her wide grin. The waiting was finally over. Now she had him…and she could do whatever she wanted to him.

She continued to caress the dark wavy locks as she thought of that increasingly long list. She had used many men over the years, but she knew that young Sammy was going to be her favorite. It was a shame he had to die, of course…but she would enjoy herself while she could. Now all she needed was for the boy to come back to consciousness. A low moan from him alerted her that her need was about to be fulfilled. "That's my sweet boy, that's it…" The phone had begun to ring, but Odessa ignored it, concentrating on Sam. Another moan came, followed by an attempt at an actual word. Odessa recognized it immediately as his older brother's name.

"D…" The first thing Sam became aware of upon his return to the waking world was how cold he was, followed by the soothing sensation of his hair being stroked. _I must've had a nightmare… _It was the logical explanation. _Why am I so cold…? Have to let him know… _"De-ean…c-c-cold." He then realized his head was resting against a shoulder. _God…did I get hurt…? _It was his immediate thought, but something wasn't right about the situation. The shoulder he was up against didn't feel like Dean's, nor did the fingers through his hair. And instead of the comforting, safe scent of aftershave and leather, a soft perfumed scent enveloped Sam – a _feminine_ scent. He was with a woman. And that's when it all came flooding back to him. _No…_

Odessa smiled down at the two glassy hazel orbs that filled with fear at the sight of her. "Welcome back, love." Sam immediately shrank from her touch and began to panic when he realized he couldn't move his arms. She put her hand against his chest to keep him down. "Hush…hush now…be still, sweetheart. You're with me now, Sammy."

The way she had said the last sentence, like it should provide some sort of comfort for him, sickened Sam instead. And now he realized why he was so cold. She had taken off his shirt and jeans, leaving him clad in only his boxers. The terror inside him was renewed at what he was sure was about to happen. And, just as he'd feared, there would be nothing he could do to stop it. _Oh God…_

"Relax, Sammy…you'd fallen into a creek. I couldn't leave you in your wet and dirty clothes now, could I?" Odessa smirked as if she'd read his mind.

That part may have been true, but Sam wasn't buying that that was all there was to it. His body tensed and he drew in a quick breath as Odessa began to lazily trace circles across his chest and the flat plane of his stomach with a decadent gleam in her eye. He looked away in revulsion, straining and grunting loudly as he pulled at his bonds as hard as he could, hoping he could break them somehow.

Odessa smiled. Sam's rebelliousness and the noises of protest were like music to her ears…she didn't _want_ him to be compliant. Knowing that this was something that was repulsing him only made doing it all the sweeter – it was why she hadn't used her mind control. For her, it was all about the thrill of the conquest. "Shhhhhhhh…lie still now," Odessa said with a kiss to his neck. He only struggled and yanked harder, rapid breaths shuddering his lean frame. _Such a beautiful boy…at last all mine to take. _She placed one hand over his wildly beating heart, the other she slipped down to his waist. "I'll be gentle."

_No, God, I don't want this, no… _Sam mentally pleaded for a miracle, but he was determined not to give her the satisfaction of any other type of plea as he fixed his eyes straight ahead on an unidentified spot on the wall, shutting out the world…employing his only remaining defense mechanism. The action only amused Odessa, her chortles nearly drowning out Cyrill's yell for her to pick up the phone…the happening of Sam's miracle.

"Damn it!" Odessa sighed loudly. "I don't _believe_ this timing!" She climbed off the bed in an angry huff and snatched the phone from its cradle on the nightstand. "Who the hell is this and make your reason for calling a good one!" she harshly addressed.

"_Huh. Funny, bitch…I thought you were looking forward to my call a lot more than that."_

"Why, Dean," Odessa changed her tone, amusedly watching the way Sam's attention jerked hopefully to the phone upon hearing his big brother was on the other end. "Find the spear already?"

"_As demanded…talked to one of your goons and I'm on my way to you. Now let me talk to Sam."_

Odessa chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. I would, but Sammy's…a little _tied up_ right now."

"Dean!" Sam screamed loudly hoping his brother could hear him. "DEAN!" He once again began to tug fiercely at his bonds. "Don't come here! She lied, she's gonna—"

"_SAMMY!" _Dean yelled into the receiver upon hearing a loud crack and a cry of pain from his baby brother. He was beside himself with worry; Sam's voice had sounded so scared and desperate, with noises that sounded like panicked hitches in his breathing interspersed among his words. Odessa's smug voice came back on the line.

"You should teach your dear little brother that it's rude to talk while people are on the phone, Dean, " she crooned, patting down the strip of duct tape she had placed over Sam's lips with the hand she had used to slap him silent.

"_You crazy bitch, WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?! Let me talk to my brother NOW!"_

"Very well," Odessa sighed exasperatedly, then smirked. She brought the phone over to her helpless prisoner and held it to his ear. "Talk to your brother, Sammy darling."

"_Sammy?" _

_Oh God, Dean… _A moment of comfort washed over Sam at finally being able to hear his brother's voice again, but he unfortunately couldn't return the favor. He knew that the muffled cries and groans growing louder and more agitated as they came from him would only serve to invoke more fear, and he could easily imagine Dean's grip on the phone turning white-knuckled in worry. But there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

"_SAMMY? Come on, kiddo, calm down…Tell me what's wrong, Sammy!" _

_Dean! She's gonna kill me, she lied, don't destroy the spears, just destroy her, she LIED, she's gonna kill me anyway! _The desperate words raced through Sam's mind and spilled out of his lips, but through the duct tape that covered them, all that came out were those same incoherent noises. _Gotta keep trying! _"Dmmph…DMMMMPH!" Odessa laughed and pulled the phone back.

"You know, Dean, perhaps you should teach Sammy that it's not polite to mumble, either." She could hear Dean growl heatedly on the other end. "I've really enjoyed the time I've spent with your brother, Dean…he really is just the cutest thing. Are you sure you can't let me have him a little longer?" she teased. "I was just about to show the kid a good time." She continued before Dean could let loose a litany of enraged threats. "But, alas, time is of the essence and we must prepare for your arrival…too bad, though. Sammy just looks so enticing lying there all tied up and unclothed."

Said litany exploded as Odessa quickly whipped the phone away from her ear and covered the earpiece. She smirked over at Sam. "You're too young to hear such language, sweetie." Sam only glared at her. _My…if looks could kill… _After the yelling had quieted, Odessa put the phone back to her ear. "Finished, Dean?"

"_Yeah, you sick monster, and you'd better damn well know that you're finished with my brother! You freakin' clear on that?!"_

"Alas, Dean, I am. You've done well so far…I must respect that," Odessa pouted. "Perform your final task and I'll have no choice but to give you your reward as stipulated. Now, I really must be getting off here, but I'll talk to you when you arrive, Dean." She smiled, looking over again at her captive. "Hurry here, though…Sammy is just _dying_ to see you." With those ominous final words, she hung up. "CYRILL! LEON!"

"Yes, ma'am?" Cyrill choked, stumbling into the room a minute after being called, Leon right behind him.

"Is the cellar prepared?" Cyrill nodded. "Matches and lighter fluid at the ready?" Leon answered affirmatively. "Well done." She walked over to Sam and toyed with a strand of his hair as she spoke to her comrades. "Now, be dears and fetch Sammy's clothes for me, would you?" The pair left wordlessly. She smirked down at Sam as he continued to glare at her. "Well, unless you prefer to die in the buff, that is, Sammy dear." He grunted in pain as she ripped the tape off his mouth without warning. "Don't worry, love…big brother's coming."

Instead of filling with hope at that statement, Sam's eyes filled with tears. He didn't want Dean to have to watch him die. "Please," he breathed out in a small, broken voice, "please, if you're gonna kill me, just—just get it over with now. Don't make my brother see it. Please."

"Oh, Sammy…" she sighed as she caressed his face with a look of mock-regret in her ice blue eyes. "You must understand, sweet boy…we're only making sure Dean goes through what he's put Dracon and I through. You're just the innocent casualty, here." She stood and took Sam's clothes from Cyrill's offering hands, laying them at the foot of the bed. After freeing Sam's feet, Cyrill and Leon untied Sam's wrists but before they could drop to his sides, Odessa seized them and pushed him back against the bed. "Now, as much as I'd like to just leave you stripped…get dressed, Sammy," she said in an eerily gentle tone. "You do everything Cyrill and Leon tell you to, you cooperate fully." He nodded reluctantly and she let go and allowed him to stand up. But it wasn't enough for her. She quickly followed and snaked her arms around his midsection, feeling him tense and inhale sharply as she pressed close enough against him to whisper in his ear. "I mean it, Sammy. Try anything, and I can't guarantee that I'll do no harm to your brother after the spears are gone, and that handy-dandy immunity to me of his along with them. In fact…step out of line, and I'll kill him."

"And how do I know you won't kill him anyway?"

"Because, Sam…losing you will be punishment enough…a pain that lasts him a lifetime." Odessa smirked. "_But_…as long as you stay in line, at least he'll still _have_ a lifetime. Now, tell me you understand this."

"I understand," Sam ground out.

"That's a good boy," she cooed. For several more seconds, she didn't release him, relishing the feel of his toned abs underneath her hands and taut back against her chest. _Yes, definitely too bad this one has to die… _Finally, she kissed the nape of his neck and reluctantly left the room.

Sam got dressed quickly and ignored the prying eyes in the room. All he could think about was Dean. Dean, whom Odessa had threatened to harm if Sam tried to escape right now; Dean, who would soon be forced to watch his baby brother die. Dean, who had always lived for him, fought for him…what would his older brother do after he was gone? Sam was terrified, his eyes welled up and his fingers shook as he buttoned his shirt. He couldn't deny being scared of the painful death that awaited him, but he was even more scared of what effect that death would have on Dean. Would Dean be able to go on without him? _Yeah…yeah, he will. I know he will. Dean's strong, he's always been the strong one. Maybe it'll turn out he's even stronger without me. Once I'm gone…he won't have any weaknesses. _

A tear threatened to spill down Sam's face. He knew the thoughts were illogical, but he also knew he was about to die. He needed to find something good that might come out of that fact or else he might try to fight back, and then Dean might go in his place if Odessa kept to her threat. And Sam wouldn't have that.

He let Cyrill and Leon escort him down to the cellar, shutting out their taunts and jeers as he continued to think. He knew the world would go on without him, and subsequently, so would Dean. Because his initial fears had been wrong – Dean fought for the innocent, the good in the world…not him. By no means was Sam denying that Dean had done everything short of giving him all the stars in the sky, but that didn't mean he was all Dean lived for. Dean would go on to save many more lives, be a hero with no weaknesses and no burdens, possibly even save the world. Sam's own future was completely uncertain – he could be dark side one day for all he knew. Maybe not only would the world be better off with Dean in it, but also better off with_out_ Sam in it. The youngest Winchester's heart was now broken, but his mind was made up. Though he didn't want to die, he would. For the greater good. _For Dean…_

He silently sat in the chair that he had escaped from earlier that afternoon and allowed himself to be bound to it again by Dracon and Cyrill. Leon stood beside a cast iron vat that sat on a table not too far from him; Sam assumed it was what the spears would be burned in. He closed his eyes as Odessa walked over, put her hands on both sides of his face, and forcefully planted her lips over his. Sam was disgusted, but too afraid to jerk away in case it counted as 'stepping out of line'. After what seemed like an eternity, she pulled back and smiled at him.

"One last kiss goodbye, love."

Dracon then jerked yet another strip of duct tape across his mouth and pressed it hard against his face. "It's time for your final act, Sammy," he grinned. "Make sure you scream nice and loud for big brother when we kill you."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: EVERY OTHER DAY UPDATES! Just thought I'd remind you all…LOL. Sorry so late in the day, bit of work to do on this one, but all good now! LOL. So here we go, this is it, the big showdown is coming! I'm very excited to have finally reached this point, heehee, and just want to thank all of you for sticking with this so far, and leaving me such kind reviews! Hope you continue to enjoy! And of course thanks to my LLS for being such an awesome beta, it's a demanding job since I update like I do, I know, but you rock at it! Okay, that's it for now, brace yourselves for what's to come, 'cause I plan to bring it like it's never been brought before! LOL.


	24. Chapter 24

DISCLAIMER: I went outside last night to fervently wish on all the stars in the sky that _Supernatural_ and those wonderful Winchester boys could suddenly be all mine! Unfortunately, it was a cloudy night…might need to try again later, LOL.

SPOILERS: You know the drill by now…anything before _Folsom Prison Blues_…yadda, yadda. LOL.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dracon then jerked yet another strip of duct tape across his mouth and pressed it hard against his face. "It's time for your final act, Sammy," he grinned. "Make sure you scream nice and loud for big brother when we kill you."_

**Chapter 24**

Dean's heart was threatening to break through his chest, both from fear and exertion, as the house where his little brother was being held captive finally came into view. It was a large house, but time had worn it down to a shell of its former self as the broken white siding, damaged roof, and vines creeping all over its sides could attest to. There had been no car-accessible ways leading to the house so he and Dusty had had to park their vehicles on the side of the road and cut through a patch of woods instead. Dusty was still working on that part as far as Dean knew. The old hunter had felt an urgency radiating off of Dean ever since Odessa's final words to him, and had told the distraught sibling to go on ahead; he would catch up. Dean hadn't needed to be told twice before breaking out into a top-speed run which, finally, had now come to an end. He was of course tired, but energy surged through his veins again as he ran toward the front porch, knowing Sam was somewhere behind that door. Any other time, Dean would've been cautious and expecting an attack as he stepped inside the monsters' lair, but he knew that Odessa and her thugs needed him conscious and alive to destroy the spears; they certainly couldn't touch the weapons themselves. Nonetheless, Dean attempted to be stealthy in the faint hope that he could get both Sam _and_ the spears out of the house intact…until an unfortunate graceless stumble over an object that lay on the floor of the pitch black living room announced his entrance. Loudly. _Damn it!_

The light flipped on seconds later, and a hulking man with the same color eyes as Odessa greeted the frustrated young hunter. "Ah…Dean, is it? So nice to have you. My name is Dracon."

"Your name is MUD, for all I care!" Dean raged. "Where's my brother, you son of a bitch?!"

"If you'll calm down and allow me," Dracon answered evenly, "I will take you to your brother. Follow me."

Dean obeyed, wanting to do nothing more than skewer the calm and collected creature in his back, but refraining since he knew it would likely cost Sam his life. He was led down a corridor to an entryway that he could see a faint light emitting from, and upon walking through it, was met with stairs that told him he was being led into a cellar. He craned his neck in an attempt to see around Dracon's massive form as he descended the stairs, but his attempts were in vain. At the bottom, Dracon finally stepped aside and the sight that greeted Dean both relieved and horrified him. "_Sammy_." He rushed toward his bound and gagged brother but froze as Odessa stepped in between them.

"Sight for sore eyes, isn't he, Dean?" she cooed.

"Yeah, and you're a sore sight for eyes, you crazy bitch," Dean snarled.

"Ha ha. Dean, you're certainly a card. A real _joker_. But playtime is _over_. _This_…is do-or-die time." She put her hands on both sides of the youngest Winchester's head, turned his face to the side, then rested her chin atop his soft hair and locked eyes with his infuriated older brother. "You do…or Sammy dies."

Dean avoided looking into Odessa's taunting eyes and fixed his gaze a few inches downward, looking into Sam's instead. Those big, expressive, gentle eyes that Dean knew better than his own, right down to the last fleck of blue rimming the dominant green and light brown. Those eyes that Dean took more comfort in looking into than he would ever admit out loud. They were now filled with so many emotions, emotions that blurred together yet stood out clearly at the same time – fear, sadness, sorrow, and of course, love for his brother. But the last emotion scared Dean – acceptance. Dean wouldn't let there be any acceptance of this situation. He would end it now. He moved his eyes back up to Odessa. "So, bitch…I _do_ what?"

"You know what to do, Dean," she smiled, motioning over to the cast iron vat. "Drop the spears in…set them ablaze. Oh, wait one second, though. Dracon?" she beseeched sweetly. "Come give big brother here some immediate incentive, please."

Dean's eyes widened in fear as Dracon crossed over to and behind Sam in four steps, fisted a rough hand in his younger brother's hair to hold him still, and brought a large knife to his exposed throat. "NO! DON'T!" Dean desperately yelled.

Sam breathed heavily against the gag as Dracon's grip tightened and the cold metal pushed further into his tender skin. Dracon smiled at Dean. "Don't worry, big brother. I won't…just as long as you destroy those spears. Until they're gone, though…" he warned and pressed the knife hard enough to draw drops of crimson, eliciting gasps from both brothers, "one wrong move, Dean, and I slice so deep into Sammy's pretty little neck that you'll have to wade through his blood just to get over here and keep his head from falling off of his lifeless body."

Dean felt the bile rise up in his throat at the mere thought of that. "Okay, OKAY! See 'em?" He held up the spears in a placating manner. "I'm gonna go put 'em in the bowl-thingy and light 'em up, they'll be gone, just DO. NOT. HURT. HIM." He met Sam's terrified gaze and gave him a reassuring look. _I'm gonna save you, Sammy, no matter what it takes. _He began to head toward the vat when Odessa's voice stopped him.

"Wait! Cyrill, Leon!" she motioned to two other male companions standing watch from the corner. They approached warily. "You know what to do…or else. Hold out the spears, Dean." Dean did as he was told and without a word of protest, Cyrill and Leon each touched a spear and recoiled screaming as it scorched their skin. Dean turned shocked and questioning eyes on Odessa, who was completely unfazed. "Had to make sure that they weren't fakes, Dean." She then turned back toward the moaning duo as they clutched at their burns. "Well done, gentlemen. Now get back upstairs and stand guard." They obeyed instantly and she once more addressed Dean. "Take 'em away, big brother."

Dean walked over to the vat and dropped the spears in, doused them with lighter fluid, then stared down at match he had lit. Once he dropped it and set the spears ablaze, there would be no going back, nothing left to destroy Odessa and her clan. And as much as he wanted to do that, Dracon's threat rang clearly in his mind. He couldn't kill a one of them without his little brother being killed in reprisal. Without another thought, Dean dropped the match and looked to Odessa for approval as the bright orange flames leapt up to consume the spears. "Happy, bitch?"

"Ecstatic, Dean!" she cheered.

"Fine. Now let Sam go."

_Yes. At last…at long, long last…match point. _"Very well, Dean," she replied. "Dracon, please…_cut_ dear Sammy loose, would you?"

Dean didn't like the emphasis on that word and held his breath as a smile lit Dracon's face, finally releasing it as the hulking creature removed the knife from Sam's throat and let go of his hair, moving out from behind him. _Oh, thank God…_

But his relief was short-lived. Before the elder brother could even blink, Dracon drew back his arm and brought the knife swiping across Sam's collarbone in a lightning quick motion, leaving a burbling red line across his tan skin. For Dean, however, it all happened in _slow_ motion.

"NOOOO!" he wailed above Sam's muffled cry of shock and pain, rushing to his baby brother only to be yet again flung against the wall by Odessa, who approached him with a gleeful smirk. "YOU SICK FREAKS, YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"

"Oh, we're not going to hurt him, Winchester," Dracon responded coldly. "We're going to KILL him."

"NO! No…_YOU_," Dean indicated Odessa venomously, "you said if I destroyed the spears that you'd give Sam back alive! YOU GAVE YOUR WORD!"

"I did," Odessa grinned wickedly. "And, I lied."

"What?" Dean croaked out, his blood running cold.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, Dean? L-I-E-D. I never intended to give your precious Sammy back to you alive…I just needed you to _think_ that so that you would destroy those spears for me. And now that they're gone, now that you can no longer kill us…we're going to kill your baby brother, right before your very eyes, Dean. So that you may know the endless pain Dracon and I have known thanks to _you_."

"What the HELL are you talking about?!" Dean shouted in a shaking voice.

"I'm _talking about_ those nameless 'freaks' that you killed thirteen years ago and the one that you killed recently…they in fact HAD names! My _friends_…Ivuna, Harleton…and my _love_, Pribram. All gone. And then, most recently, Ariet…Dracon's love. You took them away from us…so we're taking your beloved brother away from you," Odessa sneered, and then began walking toward Sam.

"NO! Odessa, DON'T! If you want revenge, you take it out on _me_, leave Sam out of this!"

Odessa turned toward Dean again. "Oh, Dean, don't play dumb. You know that this _is _our revenge…the best revenge possible. We know how much you love your baby brother; we know that for you, losing Sammy would be the only fate that's a fate worse than death…and we want you to suffer the worst."

_Oh God, no, NO! _Dean was struck speechless; there would be no negotiating with Odessa and he knew it. They were going to kill Sam, and his badass big brother was stuck to the wall unable to stop it. "NO!" Dean found his voice again as Odessa approached Sam, who was staring at him with unshed tears and a look of apology – of _goodbye_ – in his wide eyes. Dean strained against the force pinning him to the wall as Odessa smirked back at him and then turned to her companion.

"My turn, Dracon." Odessa took the knife from his outstretched hand as she used the other hand to rip the duct tape off of Sam's mouth. She could hear his heart pounding against his ribcage along with the frantic cries from his older brother for her to stop, and the boy's beautiful hazel eyes were filled with tears and nothing but terror. It was intoxicating. She gently thumbed a cascading droplet from Sam's cheek and then turned back to Dean, smiling. "Don't blink, big brother."

A scream was torn from both brothers' lips as she plunged the knife into Sam's left side, right where the spear had entered her all those years ago. She twisted the weapon and yanked it out with a flourish, splashing crimson drops all over her dress and skin. Finally, her greatest fantasy had come true…she was covered in Winchester blood.

"NOOOOOOO!!! SAMMY!!!" Dean watched in horror as Odessa wrenched the knife out of Sam's side and Sam doubled over in pain, moaning and breathing heavily. "SAM!" He realized it now. They weren't going to kill Sam – and Dean himself, consequently – in an instant. They were going to make it slow and agonizing…they were going to bleed his baby brother to death. _Oh my God…_

'_Try any deception, and I will hold you to the wall and make you watch as my friends torture and bleed your baby brother to death.'_

_Oh my God… _He hadn't forgotten the words Odessa had said; he was sure that they'd in fact haunt him for the rest of his life, but the words hadn't been truthful. Dean hadn't dared try any deception…but they were going to bleed Sam to death nonetheless – just for the hell of it. "SAMMY!!!"

"Oh God…oh God…" Sam moaned in between wet gasps for air. The pain was excruciating, and hearing his brother's terrified calls wasn't helping. He had never heard Dean sound so afraid and so broken in his whole life; he didn't even think Dean was capable of it. But he was…because his little brother was about to be slaughtered. Sam continued to try to ride out the pain as he heard Odessa cackle maniacally.

"Well! Wasn't that fun?!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "Sammy, your screams were just exquisite, so beautifully bloodcurdling," she crooned, lifting the youngest Winchester's chin. "And your brother's weren't bad either…an added bonus."

"YOU SICK BITCH!" Dean yelled in fury.

"Oh, Dean," Odessa sighed loudly, "don't you have any _other_ name you can call me? It's getting old._ As is_ this game, and as much I enjoy hearing your screams, boys…I think it's time we ended it for good."

_Oh God, no… _It was all Dean could think, and he saw the same look pass across Sam's face. This was it. He had to do something, anything…

'_As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.'_

'Yeah, bang up job I've done on that one' thought Dean sourly.

'_And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna save you.'_

Now _that _Dean Winchester knew he could – and _would_ – still do. "Odessa!" The creature turned toward him. "Odessa, you don't have to do this, you got what you wanted, the spears are toast and you've made me suffer and scream, hell, you've even made me cry! You don't have to go any further than that…just come over here and see the redness in my eyes if you don't believe me! You've done enough!"

"Yes, Dean," Odessa said evenly as she approached him at a menacingly slow pace. "I agree, I _have_ done enough, and I will do no more." She smirked at the look on Dean's face. "Oh, Dean, don't look so surprised. It's a funny thing…I was only joking about it when we met in that bar, but…I guess I _do_ have a bit of a weakness for someone like your baby brother. I just can't bring myself to destroy such a pretty thing. So…that's why Dracon's going to do it for me." She threw a glance over her shoulder to her companion. "Have at it, big man."

Sam went completely still as Dracon lifted the hem of his shirt and lowered the knife to the side of his stomach. He knew what was coming.

'_That's when I'm going to eviscerate you, Sammy.'_

_OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod! _Sam choked back a sob as he felt the knife being pressed against his exposed skin. One slow sideways slit and he would be gutted, deaf to the devastated screams of his older brother…_dead_. There was so much he needed to say, so much he tried to say. _I'm so sorry for everything, Dean; please don't let my death kill you too; thank you for everything you've ever done for me; I could never thank you enough, 'cause you've done it all; please don't blame yourself for this, please find a way to go on; I'll always be with you, watching over you just like you always watched over me; we'll be together again someday, all of us, someday but not too soon because you're gonna live a long life, you will. My end isn't your end, Dean. I love you. _But Sam couldn't say any of it. He could barely breathe; his throat had constricted in terror and shock that this was it for him. He looked at Dean, hoping his brother would see it all in those expressive eyes everyone had always said he had. _I love you, Dean._

Odessa blocked Sam's heart-wrenching last gaze and forced Dean's eyes to look into her own. She wanted to see the light go out of them as he watched the light go out of Sam's, forever in death. She took an indulgent breath. "Say 'bye bye, baby brother', Dean."

The older brother's livid stare didn't waver as Odessa stood inches from his face. "Bye bye…BITCH!!!" The look of confusion barely passed across Odessa's face before Dean had hit her dead in the eye with a glob of saliva. She shrieked and leapt backwards as the contact from Dean scalded her eye, weakening her enough so that her hold on Dean was broken. Before Dracon could register what had happened, Odessa had crashed backward into him, still clawing at her eye, knocking him away from Sam as the knife slipped out of his grasp. "HURTS LIKE A MOTHER, DON'T IT, BABE?!" Dean yelled victoriously.

Odessa and Dracon remained a struggling tangle of limbs and hurled insults as Dean rushed to Sam's side. He answered Sam's questioning look as he retrieved the knife and cut Sam's bonds. "Anything of mine that touches her burns her, remember?" he said cockily. Sam gave him a smile and nod in return. "Alright. Now let's get you outta here, kiddo," he said gently. As soon as the last bond was cut, Sam listed forward into Dean's arms, pain glazing his eyes. "It's okay, Sammy, I got ya, I got ya…" Dean knew that Sam had already lost too much blood and had to get out of there fast. Sliding his arms under Sam's and securely locking them around Sam's chest, Dean began to pull his brother toward the stairs when he felt a sudden resistance and heard a panicked wheezing shout a second later.

"_Dean!_"

Dean saw it before Sam had even spoken – Dracon had an iron grip on his little brother's ankle; he was trying to pull Sam from Dean's grasp. _SHIT! _Dean instinctively jerked harder but immediately regretted the action as Sam cried out in pain. Tug-of-war was _not _going to work wonders for his younger brother's wound, Dean realized. _Shit, shit, SHIT! _But the second that Dean decreased his pull, Dracon unexpectedly increased his with a mighty heave, and Sam slid out of Dean's grasp. "SAMMY!!!"

Sam hit the floor and couldn't move as Dracon instantly pinned his arms and legs and also decided to punch him in the face for good measure. Sam's head snapped to the side and he briefly saw stars before his vision cleared enough to see Odessa raising a pair of huge scissors taken from the workbench directly above his heart. The same scissors he had once tried to move with his mind. The irony would've been insult to injury, only this wouldn't be just injury…this would be death. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end to come as Odessa howled in anger and triumph.

"IT'S OVER, DEAN WINCHESTER!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Outside, a pair of boot-clad feet rushed through the yard toward the old house. The feet stopped dead as two deafening screams of agony pierced the quiet night.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: (falls on knees and begs for mercy) I'm sorry, I'M SORRY, it was evil, pure EVIL, I KNOW! Please don't mob my house! LOL. Even though none of you know where I live…right??? (looks around nervously) Yeah, um, so, every-other-day updates, remember? LOL. For some reason I feel the need to keep saying that… Well, um, thanks as always to all you nice, kind, _forgiving_ readers/reviewers and to my LLS for her beta work and priceless compliments about this chapter, YAY! LOL, LLS, _can_ they marry people to fanfic chapters in the state of FL? If so, go right ahead! ;-)

A/N 2: Also, at about 1:00 AM Tuesday, I made a couple of adjustments to the previous chapter that help to clarify certain things a little better than they were already. So if you read it before then, feel free to go check it out again as I do think the changes were pretty helpful. A special thanks to the reviewer **Gaze** for giving me the suggestions for the changes. :-)


	25. Chapter 25

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own _Supernatural_, sadly. If I did, well…I'd be a guy and my name would be Eric Kripke, LOL. And last I looked in the mirror and heard my name being called, neither was true! Don't own the boys, either; if I did, well…let's just say I'd be busy with something other than _this_! LOL.

SPOILERS: Anything before _Folsom Prison Blues_…this story takes place between that episode and _Hollywood Babylon_. Remember the implications of that as you read!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Sam squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end to come as Odessa howled in anger and triumph._

_"IT'S OVER, DEAN WINCHESTER!"_

_Outside, a pair of boot-clad feet rushed through the yard toward the old house. The feet stopped dead as two deafening screams of agony pierced the quiet night._

**Chapter 25**

"SAMMY!!!" Dean had been so concerned with trying not to further stretch the stab wound on Sam's side that it had completely escaped his mind how Dracon wouldn't share the sentiment. He tried one last pull as he felt Sam abruptly slip from his hold, but all it managed to do was send Dean flying backwards. He hit the floor hard, but didn't give it a second thought as he immediately got back to his feet to see a horrifying sight. Dracon had pinned Sam down and Odessa had a pair of scissors raised over her head, ready to run them directly through the youngest Winchester's heart. _NOOOOOO!!!_

"IT'S OVER, DEAN WINCHESTER!" Odessa crowed, raising the scissors as high as she could in preparation for the final blow.

Dean ignored her. He had shut out every word, sensation, emotion, and thought from his mind except for one all-consuming goal – _SAVE SAMMY_. His body worked on autopilot, only motivated by that one mission – the mission that had driven him ever since he was four years old, ever since he had learned the most important word in his vocabulary – as he moved with lightning speed toward the hot vat.

_'And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna save you.'_

_I'm gonna save you…_

_Gonna save you…_

Completely impervious to everything but that goal, Dean grabbed the searing vat off of the table and ran with it toward Odessa and Dracon. "ONLY OVER FOR _YOU_, BITCH!!!" With a feral shout, he hurled the mass of smoldering ash that was once the spears onto the backs of Odessa and Dracon and flung the now empty vat to the floor.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Dean ran around to Sam and pulled him away from the scene, ignoring the scorching pain in his hands, as Odessa and Dracon's ear-splitting shrieks of agony reverberated throughout the cellar into the quiet night. Dean scooted himself and Sam farther away as Cyrill and Leon came rushing down the stairs to help, only to be pulled down by Odessa and Dracon's flailing arms into the lethal pile of ash and into their own inevitable deaths. In no time, a duet of dying screams had turned into a quartet.

As Dean held Sam safely against him and watched the skin slowly melt from the four creatures' bodies, logic finally came to him. He had been too desperate to make the connection until that moment, but the way his saliva still had a burning effect on Odessa was proof that, even disintegrated, the spears still retained their powerful properties. The spear wound was what had permanently made anything of Dean a danger to Odessa and took away all but the one of her powers over him all those years ago. Had the spears' powers been completely gone, that aftereffect would've died with them and his spit plan wouldn't have worked, not to mention the last-ditch, impromptu ash-toss plan. But by some miracle, the spears had worked even in burnt form.

"Ding dong, the Bitch is dead," he snarled breathlessly at the once physically beautiful figure that was now a moaning, writhing, gelatinous mess. Dean looked away and back to Sam, whose head was resting in the crook of Dean's arm as he spoke weakly.

"So…you melted…her…does that ma-ake…you…Dor-othy?"

Dean grinned widely at his younger brother. "Yeah, well, just remember…if I'm Dorothy, that makes you Toto, Sammy-boy…you've got the puppy-dog eyes, after all."

Sam laughed at his brother's expert comeback but then grimaced in pain as the action sent him into a coughing fit. "Ah God…hurts…De-ean."

Dean didn't respond; he was too engrossed by the spittle that now covered Sam's lips from the coughs. It was red. _Oh God no…_ "Sammy…"

"Hurts…De-ean…" The coughs returned.

"I know, kiddo, I know…it'll be okay," Dean said softly, blinking back tears from his eyes. A rivulet of crimson now leaked out of Sam's mouth. _No, no, no… _He had to at least stop the external bleeding. He gently lowered Sam to the floor and took off his own outer shirt after shedding his jacket, then carefully tied it around Sam's torso – once again ignoring the pain in his own hands – hoping it could staunch some of the bleeding from his brother's side.

"De-ean…"

Dean suddenly found his index finger clenched tightly in his baby brother's hand, and instantly he flashed back to a similar scene of nearly twenty-four years ago. Only this time, things were different. This time, his baby brother wasn't an actual baby; this time, the hand around his finger was bigger than his own hand; this time, his brother's hazel eyes were pained and full of tears instead of clear and full of life. This time, instead of saying his first hello, his Sammy was saying his final goodbye. _No, nonononono…_

Dean lifted Sam into his arms again and cradled him. So what if Sam wasn't a baby this time, so what if Sam was bigger than him now. It was the other two 'this times' that drove the action. "Hey, Sammy, c'mon…you stay with me, kiddo, stay awake," he gently coaxed.

"C-c-coldddd…D-De-ean…." Sam whispered between chattering teeth.

_Shit…_ Dean now noticed the shivers wracking Sam's body. His younger brother was going into shock. Still supporting Sam's head with one arm, Dean used the other to grab his leather coat and gingerly wrapped it around Sam's trembling frame. "Try not to bleed on the merchandise, geek-boy," Dean lightly quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "Ya already owe me a new shirt."

It elicited a small smile from Sam. "L-like…any'a my shirts'd fit you…m-midget man."

Dean couldn't bite back the laughter. _Kid got me again…_ "Alright, little bro, you win this round."

Sam looked at him disbelievingly. "I win? Dean…is that…really you?" His older brother just chuckled warmly and Sam noticed tears in his eyes. Now it was clear to him. "Dean…am…am I…dying?" he asked in a small voice.

The question caught Dean completely off guard. "Wha…no, Sammy. No. Why would you think that?" he asked softly.

"'C-cause…you…you're crying…"

Dean blinked heavily. "Oh, nah, I'm not cryin', Sammy. Just the mustiness in this cellar, wreakin' havoc with the ol' sinuses."

"No…" Sam whispered. "S'okay, Dean…I know…m'sorry."

Dean stared bemusedly at his brother. "For what?" He held onto Sam tighter as another round of coughs assaulted the younger man's body and more blood spilled from his lips before he could finally answer.

"O…Odessa…told me…everything. How…how I was your…weakness." A tear slipped from Sam's eye. "M'so sorry…for that…Dean. I never…wanted to be that…to you."

And just like that, Dean Winchester's walls came tumbling down; his masks were removed. By the only person in the world who could manage such a feat – his baby brother. His Sammy. "Hey, hey, Sammy, you listen to me…you have nothing to be sorry for, okay? Sammy…?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He wanted to respond to his brother. He wanted to; he desperately tried to. But nothing would come out. Sam felt his body losing the battle rapidly. The world and his brother – which were one in the same – were fading from his vision and he felt the cold closing in around him, even though he was wrapped in his brother's jacket. But in an instant, the cold was banished as he felt Dean gently wipe the cascading tear from his cheek. The overwhelming comfort of the gesture caused another tear to slip out and he closed his eyes as Dean repeated the action. He closed his eyes finding immeasurable solace that he hadn't had to feel the same loneliness that he had felt during his captivity every time the tears had been allowed to slide unchecked down his face. He closed his eyes knowing Dean was there, there like he had always been ever since the very beginning. "Thanks…Dean." For everything. Knowing that his big brother was holding onto him, Sam Winchester closed his eyes…and let go of himself.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean had been gazing into Sam's glassy hazel eyes and finally had to furiously blink back the moisture in his own. When he opened them back up, a pair of long, dark lashes had covered all traces of the hazel. _No…_ "Sam?" Dean lightly tapped his brother's cheek. The younger man didn't stir. "Sammy…wake up, man." Still nothing. "Sammy? Sammy, don't do this to me…c'mon, kiddo, you hang in there." He moved his fingers instinctively to Sam's neck, feeling for his pulse. There was nothing.

"No, nonono, Sammy, Sammy!" In desperation, Dean pressed harder and finally, he felt a slow beat beneath his fingertips. A weak beat. It was the only comfort he had, and he had to have more, so he began gently running his fingers through his baby brother's long locks. The action had always helped to soothe Sam ever since he had gotten that full head of hair, which had been only a few months after he was born, and – being honest with himself – Dean knew it had the same effect on his own mind and heart. Because Sam's comfort was his comfort as well. And right now, if only for a quick moment and whether he could feel and hear Dean or not, Sam needed comfort – both physically _and_ emotionally.

"Sammy…" Dean began, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I'm gonna tell you something…probably gonna have the ultimate chick-flick moment here, but I don't care. I need you to hear this somehow." He took a deep breath as he continued to stroke Sam's hair and looked down at his placid face. "Odessa was full of it, okay, Sammy? If she thought you were nothing but my weakness, she was dead wrong…along with bein' just plain dead now, huh?" he said with a small smirk before getting serious again. "Sammy…I don't think of you as my weakness. Never have, never will. You…you're the exact opposite of that…you're my strength, Sammy." A sob broke Dean's voice. He checked his brother's pulse again. It was growing even fainter. "So you gotta hang on, kiddo…I'm gonna get you outta here…I'm gonna save you."

Dean steeled himself against the pain in his hands as he carefully lifted Sam off the floor, holding the younger man securely to his chest. He turned to the stairs and was startled upon seeing Dusty standing halfway down them, gazing at him sadly and questioningly.

"Dean…?" Dusty was afraid to ask much more; he hoped Dean would figure out the implied question –_ Is it too late for Sam?_

Dean lowered his eyes quickly, not wanting the older hunter to see the tears in them. But the action caused him to once again be looking into his baby brother's lifeless face, and a fresh batch sprang to blur his vision further. "He…he's alive. But…he's gonna…if we don't…we gotta get him outta here."

"Well then, let's git movin', boy, NOW! We got a walk ahead of us, ya know…" Dusty ordered, even though he knew that Dean needed no incentive. "You git a head start, m'gonna salt n' burn these sons a bitches an' maybe the whole damn house while I'm at it!"

Dean was up the stairs and into the hallway with Sam cradled in his arms before Dusty could even finish his sentence. His seared hands were stinging furiously but nothing was going to make him let go of Sam for any reason. Nothing would make him let go of Sam in _any_ way.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The trek through the woods was slow and arduous. The pain in Dean's hands was steadily increasing and all of Dean's muscles were rapidly tiring with the additional weight of Sam in his arms. And whatever heavy weight Sam lacked with his slender frame, he more than made up for in muscle and height. _God, this was so much easier when my little brother was actually little!_ But Dean didn't dare slow down and take a breather; he didn't have time. _Sam_ didn't have time… At this point, he was Dean's outer strength as well as his inner strength, the only reason Dean was still in motion. Sam…and the unbearable thought that he could lose him. Dean shook his head. _No, not gonna happen…NO. WAY._

"Hang on, Sammy…almost there…not gonna let you go…even though you weigh a ton." A small laugh escaped Dean's lips and the silence that followed it – save for the crunching of leaves and twigs below his feet – was deafening. Sam's irresistibly contagious high-pitched laughter didn't fill Dean's ears…no dimpled grin that could light up a room met his eyes…there was nothing. And that right there was the crux of it – for Dean, _there was nothing_ without Sam. He clutched Sam tighter. "I'm not gonna let you go, Sammy…so don't you let go either."

"Nobody's lettin' go of anything tonight, Dean," Dusty's exhausted but sure voice huffed from behind. He had left the old house in flames and had hoofed it to catch up with the brothers, immensely relieved that he had. Dean looked to be on the verge of toppling over under Sam's dead weight. _No…'weight'…make that just 'weight'._ Dusty was loathe to put the words 'Sam' and 'dead' in the same sentence. They weren't too late. "Dean? I'll take 'im from here on if ya need me to—"

"No." The response from Dean was instantaneous. "I told him…I wasn't gonna let him go…and I'm not."

"Son, nobody's askin' ya to let 'im go, I can just help ya carry 'im…you're 'bout to do a face plant as it is," Dusty chided gently. "I can take 'is legs, you'll still have 'is shoulders. It'll help."

Dean relented and found that the going was definitely much easier now, and as promised, he hadn't had to let go of Sam. Soon they were moving at a steady pace through the woods, and finally, the road was within their sights, as were their vehicles. The Impala had never looked more beautiful to Dean than at that moment. Once they had reached it, he leaned Sam against it gently, dug the keys out of his jacket pocket, and tossed them to Dusty.

The older hunter stared perplexedly down at the objects in his hand before looking up at Dean questioningly. "Uh…me…with your baby?"

Dean lifted Sam off the ground and carefully eased both himself and his brother into the backseat before answering. "My baby brother needs me more." He watched as Dusty nodded warily and climbed into the driver's seat. "Just remember though, man, not a scratch on her…don't care if you're my elder, I'll still kick your ass," he couldn't help but add. Dusty got the actually-sort-of-serious joke and chuckled, then started the engine, pulling back onto the road and flooring it more than Dean thought a sixty-plus year-old had the capability of doing. He silently approved and worked to situate Sam, who was stretched out as far as he could go, his head resting in Dean's lap. Sam's pulse had not gained any strength or speed and his breathing was extremely shallow. But Dean worked to ignore the negatives and reminded himself he should be thankful that a pulse and breaths were present at all.

A fifteen-minute drive later and the Impala screeched loudly to a halt in front of the entrance of the local hospital's emergency room. Dusty threw the car into park and killed the engine, then shot out to open the door for Dean. "Here, hand 'im out to me!"

Dean carefully did so, then took Sam in his arms once again and barreled through the automated doors of the emergency room. "I NEED HELP, MY BROTHER'S BEEN HURT! PLEASE!"

A plump nurse immediately turned around and gasped at the sight before her. "WE NEED A GURNEY HERE!"

The next few minutes were a blur for Dean as hospital staff surrounded him. The only thing he could clearly register was Sam being taken from his arms, and the subsequent empty feeling that threatened to drop him to his knees. But he stayed on his feet, running along with Sam and the staff, murmuring words of reassurance to his brother, to himself, though he was sure that the staff shouting medical jargon drowned out his words as Sam was wheeled down the hallway to quickly disappear behind closed doors.

"Sir, you can't go back there!" one of the staff called out urgently when Dean tried to follow.

"That's my little brother in there, I've gotta be with him!" Dean countered strongly, pushing against those who were trying to restrain him.

"Sir, we understand—"

"No! You don't! I said I'd stay with him!" Dean powered himself toward the doors again.

"Sir!" a more forceful female staff member interjected. "No one is allowed in triage except staff and patients for everyone's own good. You need to stay here and let your brother be worked on, you'll only be in the way if you go in there!" she spoke sternly, hoping he would understand.

The stubbornness in Dean deflated at the thought of unwittingly getting in the way of Sam's treatment. He grudgingly allowed the stern woman to lead him to a row of chairs just across from the triage doors; wordlessly he sank into one as the nurse continued to speak.

"Sir," she began, softening her voice, "we need you to fill out these forms as you wait—"

"Yeah, I know the drill," Dean robotically interrupted, accepting the thick stack of papers and pen, still hiding the pain in his hands. The nurse nodded curtly before leaving him to his work. As Dean set pen to paper, he couldn't keep his eyes from roving nearly every twenty seconds to the closed doors that Sam had been whisked behind. His mind had already played out a myriad of scenarios concerning what could be happening behind them and was threatening to come undone as he worked to supply the now standard false names and phony insurance information. He wished that he could use different first names as well, as he feared Henricksen or any of his FBI flunkies might be suspicious of a 'Sam and Dean' duo should they ever have a whim to check hospital records. But since everyone within a five-mile radius had surely heard him screaming out 'Sam' at the top of his lungs, followed by Dusty yelling out for him to be careful with his hands as he grabbed wildly for any purchase on the gurney carrying his brother, Dean could now only use their real first names. By the time he was done, the names 'Sam' and 'Dean' and Sam's medical history were perhaps the only true things written, meaning Dean was satisfied with his efforts. He handed the information back to the same nurse.

"Mr.…Dean Gaines, right?" Dean nodded. "All right. Mr. Gaines, can you tell us what happened to your younger brother?"

Dean swallowed the truth and quickly crafted a story so as not to bring down a police investigation into the matter. "We were hiking in the woods and he…he tripped over a root and fell a long way down a hill. When I got down there to him…there was this…this tree branch sticking out of his side. I tried to stop the bleeding and get him out the woods, but I was panicked and got lost and…finally, thank God, this guy found us." Dean motioned with his head to Dusty, who had come to stand beside him at the row of chairs.

The nurse turned her attention to Dusty and he picked up where Dean left off. "William Bennett," he greeted, shaking the nurse's hand. "But everyone calls me 'Dusty'."

"Very well…you found this man and his brother?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did," Dusty replied confidently. "The younger of the two was in a pretty bad way when I did, damn tree branch'd put a good sized hole in the kid's side. Got 'em here as fast as I could." The nurse nodded. "Would like to stay here 'til I know the boy's all right if ya don't mind."

"Of course, Mr. Ben— err…Dusty."

"Thank ya kindly. And this one," he gestured to Dean, "didn't get outta the woods unscathed, so to speak." Dean's head shot up in surprise, but Dusty ignored the look. "Burnt 'is hands tryin' to make a campfire he told me."

Dean glowered as the nurse approached him and took a look at his hands. "Oh my God…from a campfire?" she asked in shock.

Dusty clucked his tongue. "Yup."

Any further conversation, however, was immediately cut off by a shrill, unbroken beeping noise. All three heads turned to look at the doors that the sound was emanating from…the doors that Sam lay behind.

"SHIT!" Dusty yelled.

The nurse hurried into action along with the rest of the staff. "We need a crash cart in here NOW, the kid's flat-lining! CODE BLUE!"

Dean Winchester didn't say a word, nor did he register the words being said. All he knew was the piercing sound of the wailing heart monitor…and what it meant. His baby brother's heart had stopped. For Dean, everything had stopped – save for his rapid descent to the floor as stark terror numbed his every sense… _There was nothing_ without Sam.

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: (ducks barrage of rock salt…ducks grenades…prays an atomic bomb isn't dropped on house) Okay, flat out, folks! THIS IS NOT A DEATHFIC! I DON'T DO DEATHFICS!!! I don't even READ them, much less WRITE them! And I'm killing no suspense here by telling you this, b/c, remember? This story takes place in between _Hollywood Babylon_ and _Folsom Prison Blues_, and isn't written AU-style, therefore…they CAN'T die! LOL. And they won't, not in my writing, I can assure you! Though I _do_ feel extremely evil for sticking a second cliffhanger in a row to ya'll…(hangs head while grinning) but no lambasting me, LOL, 'cause it'll all be okay! Hear that, LLS? It'll be okay, so you can TALK TO ME AGAIN! LOL. ;-) Thanks to her for the beta, and to all you still nice and still _forgiving_ readers/reviewers out there; next chapter will be up before ya know it!

A/N 2: BTW, I'm in the process of responding to your Chapter 24 comments, I just went ahead and posted this one beforehand. Didn't forget my awesome reviewers, no way! Also, Dean's fake last name comes from a Lynyrd Skynyrd guitarist, Steve Gaines, heehee! My dad would love that one...


	26. Chapter 26

DISCLAIMER: I read somewhere that there's this philosophy saying if you believe in something hard enough, it'll be made true, so for one whole day I did absolutely nothing but repeat the words, "I own _Supernatural_," to myself. And seeing as how the only thing I acquired from this endeavor was a sore throat, I realize whatever I read must've been marked under "Fiction"!

SPOILERS: Takes place between _Hollywood Babylon_ and _Folsom Prison Blues_, so anything before then goes. It's not AU either, so again, remember the implication of that as you read!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _Dean Winchester didn't say a word, nor did he register the words being said. All he knew was the piercing sound of the wailing heart monitor…and what it meant. His baby brother's heart had stopped. For Dean, everything had stopped – save for his rapid descent to the floor as stark terror numbed his every sense… _There was nothing _without Sam._

**Chapter 26**

"Dean!"

Calloused hands shot out to grab the elder Winchester before he hit the hard tile below him and all Dean could think was that he would've actually preferred to fall all the way. Because it would've knocked him out so that he would no longer have to hear the sound of the heart monitor flat-lining; hell, it might've even mercifully killed him so that wouldn't have to live in a world without his baby brother…_live in a world_ that wasn't really there because he had lost his only world…_live in a world_ where he's not really living at all.

But he had been caught by Dusty and propped back up in the chair…he was still living. And at that point in time, nothing could've been more wrong, because he was still living…and his Sammy wasn't. His Sammy was… _Dead. _"No." _Dead! _"No!" _DEAD! _"NOOOOOO!!!" Dean sprang out of the seat and had burst through the triage doors before anyone could stop him, freezing mere inches in at the hell-sent sight in front of him…

Sam was pale and completely motionless, his six-foot-four frame practically dwarfed by the tubes and machinery that surrounded him, his face covered by an oxygen mask with a blue bag attached to the end – a ventilator – that was being squeezed by a medic as another medic did compressions.

But even worse than the image assaulting his eyes…were the words assaulting his ears.

"He's still in V-Fib!"

"Push a dose of Epi!"

"Charge the paddles to 250…CLEAR!"

_Oh my God… _Now Dean knew that the only thing worse than seeing Sam completely motionless was seeing his young – his _too young _– body arch under the jolts of a defibrillator. Because Sam being motionless still allowed Dean room for the delusion that his brother was just sleeping peacefully. But Sam being shocked back to life allowed no room whatsoever for delusions. Especially when the 'back to life' part of the deal wasn't even happening.

"Anything?"

"No response! C'mon, kid, hang on…"

"Charge to 360…CLEAR!"

"Still got nothing!"

"What's his down time?"

"Eight minutes!"

"Shit, we're gonna lose this kid! Push another high dose of Epi!"

"Charge to 450…CLEAR!"

Dean shut his eyes as tears leaked out of them. He couldn't bear to watch anymore. He only wished he could shut his ears as well.

"No change, still in V-Fib…"

"He's been down nine minutes…it's now or never…"

_Oh no, nono… _The medics weren't yelling anymore, their voices sounded almost…subdued…somber…_defeated_. And that could only mean… _Nonono…_

"Charge to 500…CLEAR!"

"Tell me you've got something…"

The male medic who had been monitoring their young patient's vitals only shook his head sadly. "Call it."

_No…_

"Time of death…"

_NO._

"1:43 AM."

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!" The medics had barely had time to unhook the equipment from Sam before Dean threw himself on top of his younger brother's lifeless body, sobbing hysterically. "Sammy, oh God, Sammy, not you, not you, oh God, Sammy…don't do this, please don't leave me, oh God, Sammy, don't go…" Dean's profuse tears now soaked Sam's neck, his face buried against it, as the elder brother began to rock the younger's body like he had done so many times when Sam was a child. _When Sam was alive… _"God, Sammy, I can't…I couldn't…" He turned broken eyes on the medics. "I couldn't save him…"

The medics could only offer sympathetic gazes.

"You don't understand! I promised to save him! I promised…oh God, I promised, Sammy, I'm so sorry…so sorry…" He held his little brother as tightly as he could, knowing that it would be the last time he ever got to do so…the last time he would ever get to be a big brother.

There were already too many 'last times' that had passed…and he had taken them for granted. The last time he had laughed with Sam…the last time he had been treated to Sam's dimpled grin…the last time he had heard Sam's gentle voice, felt his comforting touch and the warmth and life that coursed through his brother's body…the last time he had caved under the power of Sam's puppy-dog eyes. _Oh God… _The last time he had told Sam he loved him. He couldn't even remember when that was, because it seemed like it had been so long ago…and he'd taken it for granted. "Oh God, Sammy, I love you, I love you, little brother, more than anything in the world, okay? You knew that though, right? You knew, you had to, just wake up and tell me you knew…you can wake up, Sammy, I know you can. I've got ya, kiddo, I'm here, I'm here, Sammy…just please wake up…"

"_Please wake up…"_

"_Wake up…"_

"_Wake up…"_

"Dean! WAKE UP!"

"SAMMY!!!" Dean shot bolt upright in the hospital bed he lay in, nearly knocking the older man who had been shaking his shoulders off his feet. Eyes wide and terrified, he rapidly scanned the room. What he saw confused him…what he_ didn't_ see threatened to destroy him. "SAMMY!"

"Dean! DEAN, snap out of it!" Dusty shouted with a few more shakes of the younger hunter. "Come on, LOOK AT ME!"

Dean squinted his eyes; the weathered face of his friend was finally coming into his vision. "Dusty?"

"Yeah…God, son, ya shore know how to almost give an old man a heart attack!"

_Heart…Sammy's heart…it had stopped…oh God. I'm not a big brother anymore… _"Wh-where's Sammy?" Dusty briefly averted his gaze. "Oh God, where is he, Dusty, why isn't he here?" He turned tearful eyes on the older man. "They…they took him, didn't they?"

"Yeah…but hey, s'gonna be okay…you'll see him again sooner than ya know it."

The tears spilled, and he wasn't about to care who saw them. "It'll be okay? OKAY?! How the hell can you stand here and say that?! I thought you understood what my brother meant to me…I thought you understood that he was EVERYTHING to me! My strength, remember? My strength, my reason, my…oh God." Dusty looked stricken as Dean began to sob. "Oh God…Sammy, nothing without you…oh God…God…_GOD_!"

The grizzled man stepped back as Dean punched the mattress over and over again as his tears continued to fall. _What the hell is wrong with him…? _"Dean…? What the hell's with all this past tense garbage you're throwin' 'round. Don't ya get that—"

"Move aside, sir, we have the other patient coming in!" a female nurse interrupted as she and a few other nurses disappeared behind the curtain to the right of the bed that Dean lay in. Dusty assumed that it was to prepare for the new arrival…and not a moment too soon. Dean, still trembling with emotion, was only confused.

_Who the hell…?_ As if answering him, a small fleet of staff entered the room, surrounding a gurney that was being rolled in backwards. One of the nurses in front moved aside for a moment, revealing a brief glimpse of chestnut-brown to Dean. He would later wonder why his own heart monitor hadn't flat-lined…he was sure his heart had stopped. _Oh my God… _He knew that mop of hair anywhere. _Oh my God… _He had shattered because he thought he would never see it again. _Oh my God… _Yet, there it was. There _he _was. There…was his Sammy.

"Oh my God…_Sammy_…" Dean had swung his legs off the bed in an instant, and it took nearly every person from the staff to hold him down in it for his own safety. "Let me go! I have to see him!"

"Sir! You need to lie back down and let your brother be situated! And don't forget…you're a patient here yourself, now."

Dean recognized the same take-no-crap nurse that he had met while Sam was in triage, but begged for her mercy nonetheless. "Please…I need to see him."

"Very well," the nurse conceded, hiding a smile of respect and admiration behind a sigh. _That stubborn thing sure does love his kid brother… _It was why she had chosen to be a nurse all those years ago…for people like the young man in front of her, who truly treasured the life she was working to save. And for people like the younger man on the other side of the curtain, who was obviously a good enough person to have earned that love and without a doubt _deserved_ to be saved. True, she worked to save _every _life regardless…but it was the lives like that of the Sam Gaines boy that really made it all worthwhile.

Dean's breath stilled as the nurse pulled the curtain back to reveal his brother…his very much _alive_ brother. There was no more unbroken trilling from the heart monitor, just a consistent, steady 'beep…beep…beep' sound. There was no more blue tinge to his brother's lips; though still a little paler than usual, they were once again a flesh tone. There were no more electricity-induced jolts of his body, no more ventilators; his brother was lying still – the _peaceful_ kind of still – and his chest was rising and falling on its own. It had only been a nightmare. Sam Winchester was alive…and now Dean Winchester could live again, too.

"Mr. Gaines?"

After a few seconds more of staring at Sam, Dean finally turned his head to see a thirty-something doctor with blue eyes and light brown wavy hair that was styled similar to Sam's standing in front of him. He wore a pleasant expression as he approached Dean with his hand outstretched. "Great to see you awake, Mr. Gaines. My name's Kyle Thomas, I'm the doctor who operated on your brother Sam."

"Oh. Hey, Doc, call me 'Dean'." As Dean reached out his hand to accept the greeting, he realized for the first time that both of his hands were bandaged. _What the…shit…forgot all about those burns…_

Doctor Thomas improvised and shook the confused patient's wrist instead."I'm afraid this is the only handshake you can muster right now, Dean. The pads of your hands were burned pretty badly, but luckily we've got a great burn unit here," he said with a warm smile.

Dean looked up at him apprehensively, completely ignoring any facet of his own injury as what the doctor had said rang in his ear. "You…you said you had to operate on my brother?"

Doctor Thomas nodded sympathetically. "I'm afraid so, Dean."

"How…how did I not know that?"

"Well, from what I was told, you took a nasty fall from the chairs outside of triage…you've been out for quite a few hours."

Dean's eyes widened. "I…I actually fell?" The doctor nodded; Dean swallowed. "So…that means Sam…did Sam's…did Sam's heart stop?"

"Yes, Dean." Doctor Thomas said softly. "For about five minutes. But as you can see, we were able to get it started back up…and from then on, there were no more complications, I'm happy to report. Your brother came through surgery just fine."

_Dead…for five minutes…Sammy was dead…dead… _But he wasn't anymore. _He's alive, Sammy's alive…came through surgery just fine… _Dean naturally decided to concentrate on that latter fact. "So…he's gonna be okay?"

"Yes…I'm expecting him to make a full recovery. He's one hell of a fighter, you know."

"Sure is," Dean beamed proudly.

Dusty finally spoke up. "So what happened to 'im in that operatin' room, doc?"

"Well, as I'm sure you were already aware, Sam had lost a lot of blood through the wound on his side, which also caused some internal bleeding. The very bottom of his left lung had been punctured, but thankfully the damage wasn't too extensive and we were able to go in and repair it relatively problem-free…strangely enough, the tree branch made a rather clean incision and left no splinters behind among other small miracles. But make no mistake, your brother is a very lucky young man, Dean. If you and Mr. Bennett hadn't gotten him here when you did, I fear the situation would've been much grimmer," Doctor Thomas finished.

_Oh God…if Odessa would've stabbed him any higher… _Dean banished the thoughts from his mind. There was no reason to dwell on what could have been or what almost was, and _every_ reason to dwell on the here and now instead. The last of the humanoid familiars were dead, he was alive, and, most important of all, his baby brother was alive. "It's all okay now…" Dean reminded himself aloud, not even aware he'd done so.

"Yes, Dean," Doctor Thomas confirmed. "Now of course Sam will need to stay with us a little while for recovery, and you aren't quite ready to be out of here yourself. But, barring any setbacks, which I believe will be unlikely, you both should be out of here within the week."

Dean beamed brightly up at the physician. "Thanks, Doc. For everything you did…for saving him."

Doctor Thomas smiled. "Well, you're welcome, but I've gotta say, I just wielded the surgical tools…seems to me that you and Mr. Bennett here saved your brother's life, while your brother himself made sure those efforts weren't in vain." He elaborated when confusion passed across Dean's face. "You see, Dean, it's the flip of a coin in the touch-and-go cases, which is what Sam was, there at first… One side finds them fighting, the other finds them giving up. And, like I told you, your brother is a fighter. You saved him, and he _kept_ himself saved. He obviously feels that he's got something to live for."

Dean glanced over toward Sam's bed, even though the nurses helping to situate his brother hid him from view. "Yeah, he does, and he better not ever forget that."

The doctor chuckled. "Well, with an older brother like you, I'm sure he won't!" Noticing that Dean hadn't yet taken his eyes off of Sam, he decided to throw out the first question this time. "Dean? Something on your mind concerning Sam?"

_Ha. When _isn't_ there… _Dean smirked lightly at the thought. "Actually, I was just wonderin' why he hasn't woken up yet…that's normal, right?"

"Of course it is, it's an inevitable side effect of the post-surgery drugs we gave him," Doctor Thomas answered. "But, according to my watch, the drugs should be wearing off pretty soon and Sam will be back to the waking world. Give him…about twenty minutes or so."

"Sounds good, Doc." The nurses finally moved away from Sam's bed and Dean couldn't help but smile again upon the sight of his little brother, still with him in the world. He watched as Doctor Thomas made sure that everything was satisfactory with Sam and thanked the physician again when he confirmed that it was, nodding at the man's parting instruction to press the nurse's call button if either he or Sam needed anything. Upon the doctor's departure, Dean mistakenly thought he and his brother were the only ones in the room and jumped when Dusty suddenly cleared his throat…much to the older man's amusement.

"Now how 'bout that…didn't take ya as the jumpy sort, there, son," the old hunter chortled. "The things ya learn about a guy…"

"Hey, you just be glad that I didn't have a loaded weapon in my hands," Dean fired back with a smile.

"Believe me, I am!" Dusty stood up from the chair he'd been seated in as the doctor had talked to Dean and cringed as his knees creaked loudly. He shot a look to the younger hunter, whose grin was steadily widening. "Boy, don't ya even think about sayin' ya got some WD-40 in your car or some such wisecrack." It was his turn to smile as he saw Dean's face fall in shock. "Yep, s'what I thought ya were thinkin'…age brings wisdom, son, age brings wisdom…" he said with two taps to his head.

Dean's grin returned. "See, that's what I keep tryin' to tell Sammy-boy over there…I'm older, therefore, I'm smarter."

"Well…then again, there're always some exceptions to the rule, ya know," the elder hunter winked.

"Hey!"

Dusty laughed at Dean's less-than-expert comeback and then walked quietly over to Sam's bed, getting a good look at the boy – minus the blood and darkness of night though plus one nasal canula – for the first time. He couldn't help but flash back to Gordon Walker's words that the young man was evil, and felt a new wave of contempt and incredulity toward the jailed hunter for ever being able to conjure up such atrocious beliefs. The kid he was staring down at practically exuded innocence and gentleness, and the overwhelming need to help him make it out of the ordeal alive – something that Dusty had felt ever since the boy's abduction – was finally able to turn to relief now that said mission had been accomplished. "Lookin' forward to meetin' ya, kid," Dusty whispered with a light pat to Sam's arm and then crossed back over to Dean's side of the room. "Gonna scope this joint for some java n' grub…much as I know anythin' from a hospital is taste bud torture, but starvers cain't be choosers."

"I hear _that_ loud and clear," Dean said with an emphatic nod. He could sense his own appetite growing rapidly, but for once decided to ignore his stomach…he had something more important that he needed to do. So when Dusty asked if he wanted something to eat as well, Dean politely declined.

"Alright, then…be back in a few."

As soon as Dusty's steps had faded down the hallway, Dean sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, landing less than gracefully on the floor – but at least still on his feet – without the use of his hands to brace himself. Trying not to make too much noise, he then crossed to Sam's side of the divide and awkwardly dragged the chair waiting there over to the side of Sam's bed, taking a seat in it once he had it acceptably positioned. Instinctively, he reached for his younger brother's hand, but was reminded once again of his own injuries. "Damn bandages…" Dean muttered softly. "Lookin' like I've got cotton swabs for arms over here, ya know that, Sammy? Bet you'll get a big kick out of it when you wake up…might even have to tell ya to stick with 'midget man' over 'Captain Q-Tip'," he smiled. "Then again, that might make for a pretty interesting superhero…though I'd hate to see his arch nemesis, ya know? Ew."

Dean sighed, knowing he was delaying what he really wanted to say…what he _needed_ to say. _Suck it up, Winchester…you'd already blown your chance in your dream…don't blow it for real. _He took a deep breath, staring down at Sam's lax face and brushing one of his bandaged hands against Sam's folded ones. _Just do it already… _"Uh…listen…Sammy…" Dean began, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I, um…well, you know me…I don't do the mushy stuff too well, but…I just need you to know, even though I think you already do, that I…I…" _Say it, macho man… _"I…I love you, Sammy…okay? You're my pain-in-the-ass overgrown geek-boy little brother, and I love ya, kiddo…always." _And so is fulfilled my chick-flick quota for the entire year, at least…_

The lump returned to Dean's throat when he unexpectedly felt Sam's long fingers curl gently around his wrist, and rather than being mortified that his younger brother had likely heard every word he'd said, Dean was glad of it…and strangely relieved by it. After all, truer words had never been spoken... His smile widened and a suspicious warmth settled in behind his eyes as the fingers gave his wrist a squeeze. He knew exactly what Sam's gesture was saying.

_Love you, too, big bro._

And minutes later, the vestiges of darkness that had remained behind for Dean met their end under the brilliant light that was his Sammy, scattering away as the youngest Winchester opened his eyes and fixed his warm gaze on his older brother, also gracing him with that dimpled smile he had been longing to see. In that moment, any walls that Dean Winchester still had up effortlessly crumbled, while simultaneously, his strength was at last fully restored.

"Hey," Sam breathed out in a whisper.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean returned softly, his voice breaking. "I'm here…I'm here, Sammy."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: YAAAAY!!! LOL, oh my, I'm "yay-ing" my own story, but who cares! It just excites me, LOL. See, you can all feel better now – Sammy's okay again! And since Sammy's okay again, Dean can be okay again, and since Sam and Dean are okay again, EVERYONE'S okay again! LOL. Thanks so much as usual to all you readers and reviewers, your comments continue to make me grin ear to ear, LOL. And LLS, I can't thank you enough for all the beta work you've done; you're made of awesome! LOL, to use one of our favorite phrases… Well, this story is starting to draw to a close (sniffles loudly) but there are still a few more chapters to go, so don't start mourning yet! LOL. Next update, as always, coming soon. :-)


	27. Chapter 27

DISCLAIMER: Well, Thanksgiving is coming up, and this year, I'm fervently hoping that I've got "owning _Supernatural_ and the boys" on my list of thing to be thankful for! Highly doubting it at the same time, but I guess we shall find out on Thursday, LOL.

SPOILERS: Anything before _Folsom Prison Blues_ is in bounds in this story!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY:_ In that moment, any walls that Dean Winchester still had up effortlessly crumbled, while simultaneously, his strength was at last fully restored. _

"_Hey," Sam breathed out in a whisper._

"_Hey, kiddo," Dean returned softly, his voice breaking. "I'm here…I'm here, Sammy."_

**Chapter 27**

Four hours had now passed since Sam's return to consciousness; four hours since that single word from his baby brother had instantly glued Dean's shattered world back together. It was, in fact, the only word Dean had been able to get out of Sam so far as the younger man had succumbed to his body's need to sleep off the effects of the post-surgery drugs minutes later, but it was enough to let Dean know that his Sammy was still with him. And at that moment, it was all the knowledge Dean needed. After both Dusty and a nurse had come in to check on the brothers, Dean had quietly made his way back to his own bed and turned the TV on at a low volume, knowing that even if he wanted to go back to sleep, he had too many emotions coursing through his veins and filling his mind and heart to do so. It hadn't taken Dean long to flash back to when he was on the motel room phone with the Indiana State Police trying to locate the other spear – the last time he had enlisted the TV to keep him company. That time, he had been _truly _alone. That time, the bed to his left had been empty, devoid of life…devoid of Sam. The memory immediately tore his gaze away from the TV and over to his peacefully resting little brother, where it remained until sleep unexpectedly pulled Dean under as well.

When the older Winchester next awoke, it was to the sounds of feet moving about the room, followed seconds later by a man's scratchy singsong but still recognizable voice.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs n' bakey!"

"Dude," Dean groaned, shooting a weary look at Dusty, "are you freakin' serious?"

The old hunter chuckled. "'Fraid not, son…you only _wish_ it was eggs n' bacon! What it _really_ is I cain't quite tell from here." He glanced over to the doorway where Dean's favorite nurse was pushing a cart of what might've been considered food at some point into the room. "I do know that with those bandaged hands ya cain't eat it yourself, though."

Dean paled as he stared at Dusty. "Oh God…you mean…you've gotta _spoon feed _me?"

"Hell no!" Dusty said with a large step backwards from the bed. "I'll help ya in a lotta ways, Dean, but _that_ ain't one of 'em! S'pose that'll be left to Miss Wilma, here," he gestured to the fifty-ish nurse.

"Wilma?" Dean repeated, smirking at the chance to finally get back at the battleaxe of a nurse. "Well, yabba-dabba-doo, then."

"Like I haven't heard that one before," the nurse growled, plucking a plastic cup with a lid and a long straw from the cart and sitting it on Dean's bedside table. "And no spoon-feeding from me either, Mr. Gaines. The solid food is for the patients in the next room." She smacked the cup's lid emphatically. "_This here_ is your breakfast, a nice well-balanced nutritional shake we mix up for patients who can't feed themselves any other way." She noted that Dean scowled at the drink and then added, "Unless of course, you'd actually _prefer_ me to spoon-feed you, because that can—"

"I'll take the shake, thanks."

"Thought so," she said, concealing a smile as she crossed to the other side of the room, surprised to find the occupant of the bed there also stirring and open-eyed. "Well, a very good morning to you, Sam! Nice to see you awake, dear."

Dean shook his head. _Those eyes aren't even open for one minute and Miss Stone Age is already turning to mush…_

Sam blinked blearily and acknowledged the petite, graying older woman standing above him with a polite smile before turning his head to look in Dean's direction. He briefly wondered who the sixty-something-looking man his older brother appeared to bantering with was before returning to his original position, secure in the knowledge that Dean seemed to be just fine.

Wilma noticed how Sam visibly relaxed upon seeing his brother was there with him. _So the feeling is mutual… _She handed another cup containing the same drink she had given Dean to Sam. "Okay, honey, this is the same thing I gave your brother, a little breakfast shake that I promise tastes just fine. It should be easier for your stomach to take right now than solid foods."

"Thanks, ma'am," Sam said softly.

"You're very welcome, Sam," Wilma smiled. "Let me guess, you're the sweet to your brother's sour, hmm?" she said with a wink.

"I heard that!" came from the other side of the room.

"Fine by me!" Wilma retorted. "Your brother's a pretty fun one to banter with, you know, Sam?" she whispered, and the boy gave her a knowing grin.

"Yeah, I know." Shortly after, the grin dissipated. "Ma'am?"

"You can call me 'Wilma', dear."

Sam gave her an apologetic look, just knowing that by now she had surely been a victim of a Dean Winchester wisecrack. "Okay, Wilma…you said you gave my brother the same drink as me, right?" The nurse nodded, and Sam's concern elevated. "Why…is he hurt bad…bad enough that he needs that like I do?"

Worry shone through in the boy's expressive hazel eyes, and Wilma felt the instant need to erase it. "Oh no…no, sweetie, your brother's fine, it's just that he can't feed himself with his hands still healing from those burns."

"Burns?"

"Yes…from the campfire, I think Mr. Bennett said it was…don't you remember?"

"Mr. Bennett?"

"Yes, dear…he's the man that found you and your brother and helped you get out of the woods…would you like to talk to your brother about all this? I can get him if you'd like."

"Yes, please."

"Alright, honey," the nurse said with a pat to Sam's knee. "Just hang on." She bustled over to Dean's bed and purposely cut in on the lighthearted conversation the two older men were having. "Dean?" She watched in silent awe as the elder sibling schooled his features, apparently knowing merely by the sound of her voice that it was time to get serious.

"Is it my brother?"

"Yes, Dean," Wilma said gently, her respect for the young man growing by the minute. "Sam's okay," she cut in before he could make the query, "he's just asking for you." She sprang to action just as quickly as Dean had sprung off the pillow. "Wait!" she admonished, grabbing his shoulders. "Wait one second, it'll be a lot easier to get off that bed if you have a little help, Superman."

"Lead the way, Mrs. Flintstone."

With her own slight eye roll upon the comment and minimal protest from Dean, Wilma assisted the older brother over to his younger brother's bed and gently deposited him into the chair that sat at the side of it. "I'll leave you two alone, just press the call button if either of you need anything."

"Thanks, Wilma," Dean said with a novel sincerity.

"You're welcome, Dean," she replied with a smile before taking the cart and exiting the room.

As soon as she left, Dean turned his attention to Sam. "Hey, kiddo," he said softly. "What's up…the old woman say she was gonna give you a sponge bath or somethin'?" Dean's light smirk dropped when Sam turned wide, confused eyes on him.

"Dean…I don't…don't know…" Sam paused and swallowed thickly, deciding it was now or never. "What happened?"

_Aw, man…it's way too early for this… _But whether he liked it or not, Sam had asked a question – THE question – and it was Dean's job to answer it. First making sure that Sam remembered everything that had happened up to the point of the second time Odessa had showed up in their motel room, which Sam did, Dean then took a deep breath and began the rest of the story, which soon enough required the introduction of Sam to Dusty…and vice-versa. He motioned the old hunter over.

"Sammy…this guy here is Dusty Bennett, and I gotta tell ya…" Dean said, making sure he had caught Dusty's eye for the next statement, "if it wouldn't have been for him, I don't know where the two of us would be right now."

"Eh, 'tweren't nothin', Dean, you know that," Dusty said quietly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I was happy to help." He turned his eyes from the elder Winchester to the younger one. "Sam… Boy, you got no idea how I glad I am that you're okay," he greeted with a warm smile. "Pleased'ta finally make your acquaintance."

"Seems you already have," Sam smiled back. "Guess I was just never awake to realize it, huh?" As Dusty shared a laugh over that statement with him and his brother, the youngest Winchester instantly took a liking to the old hunter. Sam had understandably been wary of meeting other hunters ever since Gordon Walker had come onto the scene, but he was getting absolutely none of the bad vibes he had gotten off of _that_ hunter from _this_ hunter. And then there was what Dean and Wilma had told him. "So, my brother…my brother said that you tried to stop the familiars from taking me? And the nurse said that you helped Dean carry me out of the woods after I…I…just what did you guys _claim_ happened to me when these people asked?"

"You slid down a hill an' got a rather sharp n' smooth tree branch stuck in your side," Dusty answered him.

"Riiight…" Sam drawled out amusedly, slowly nodding his head. "And according to the nurse, Dean burnt his hands…making a campfire?"

"You got it," Dean grinned, displaying his bandaged hands.

The amusement quickly faded and Sam winced in sympathy. He clearly remembered how Dean had _really_ gotten burnt…grabbing the burning vat so he could throw the ash…selflessly saving him from certain death, as usual. He threw a grateful look at Dean, knowing he would understand what it was for, before turning his gaze back to Dusty. "So you really…did all those things? To help me…to help _us_?"

"Shore did, kid," Dusty said with a small smirk at his own rhyme. "Only wish I coulda stopped those damn familiars in the first place 'fore they got ya into their car, but…'least things turned out alright in the end."

"Thanks to you," Sam said sincerely. "And I…I honestly don't know how to thank you…I'm just sorry I got you caught up in this mess, I mean—"

"Shucks, boy, don't even go down that road…ain't no way none'a this was your fault. An' I don't need no thanks other'n knowin' that you boys are okay an' that those evil sons'a bitches that tried to harm ya'll are good n' extinct…that's the hunter's reward, right there. …'Sides…" Dusty added with a smile, "I got to get even with a so-called fellow hunter who wronged me a few years ago along the way, ya know?" He gave Dean a wink.

"Huh?" Sam said, looking confusedly between them.

"Oh, your brother told ya 'bout havin' to find the other spear, right?" Dusty continued when Sam nodded. "Yeah, well, I had it 'til four years back when another hunter stole it from me."

"And guess the guilty party, Sammy," Dean cut in.

Sam didn't miss a beat. "Gordon."

"The one and only!" Dean stated in response.

"Bastard," Sam muttered, causing Dusty to have to bite back laughter. He couldn't have agreed more with the kid and had to wonder just how many people's Christmas card lists Gordon had been permanently removed from over the years. 'All the sensible people of the world, at least…' he figured mentally before Sam spoke again.

"So…how did you get the location of the spear out of _Gordon_ of all people?"

"With a friend's help," Dean said, clapping Dusty on the back, and together the older hunters proceeded to tell the youngest one the regaling tale of how they had tricked Gordon into spilling the beans and had found the spear inside the old shack. Naturally, Sam didn't let the fact that his very wanted brother had snuck into a prison slip by unnoticed and voiced his concern, but Dean assured him everything had gone down smoothly…conveniently omitting the part about his near meltdown after Gordon had gone back to his cell, of course. "And then, well…you know the rest," he finished.

"Yeah…" Sam pensively conceded. "So…you're okay, bro?"

"Sure, Sammy," Dean said brightly. "These burns are nothin' compared to what you went…" He paused instantly. "What you, uh…what other injuries you've seen before on me…right?"

Sam looked sympathetically at his brother. "Dean…you don't have to cover for me. I know…I woke up a little right after surgery and they told me." He picked for a few seconds at a loose thread on his blanket before turning his gaze back to Dean. "My heart stopped, didn't it?"

Dean looked away quickly and took a moment to compose himself before answering his baby brother. "Yeah…yeah, Sammy, it did. But it's fine now, right?"

Sam swallowed, remembering what he had felt like when Dean's heart had stopped right before their dad's sacrifice, and immediately understood what Dean was trying to do – put an end to that particular conversation topic for good. It may have been Sam's heart that stopped, but it was clear to the youngest Winchester that his older brother's heart had nearly been ripped out by the occurrence. "Yeah, Dean…it's fine. _I'm_ fine," Sam assured with a gentle smile.

"Good," Dean replied, palpable emotion in his voice. "So…anything else I need to know?" he said, fixing Sam with a look that clearly said, 'It's _your_ turn to talk, now.'

Sam got the implication instantly. So did Dusty. "Well, ah, I think m'gonna go find some breakfast for myself, if you two don't mind. Be back later," he said with a salute and a quick retreat to the door.

"Wait, Mr. Bennett?" Sam called out.

The old hunter stopped at the threshold and turned. "'Dusty', son," came the light correction. "'Mr. Bennett' is what them damn telemarketers call me," he said with a wink.

Sam smirked, recalling some of John Winchester's often censor-worthy reactions to the particularly persistent callers. "Yeah…our dad hated them, too," the youngest hunter agreed. "Well, anyways…Dusty?" The addressed man nodded for Sam to continue, and he did, gazing at the old hunter sincerely. "Thanks again…for everything."

Dusty swallowed the lump that suddenly came to his throat. "Hey…no problemo, kid," he finally got out with equal sincerity and then headed on down the hall.

"Wow…pretty awesome guy," Sam said quietly, still overwhelmed by all the old hunter had so selflessly done for him and Dean. "Kinda reminds me of Bobby, ya know? They should meet one day."

Dean chuckled. "Great minds think alike, kiddo," he quipped, having to quell the sudden urge to reach over and ruffle Sam's hair. _Damn bandages… _"So…" Dean began, returning the conversation to more serious territory. "Tell me your side of the story?"

Sam complied. With his big brother's support of course, he recounted all that had happened from his being abducted from the motel to when he and Dean had been reunited, and the elder Winchester found himself filled with pride and amazement at how strongly and deftly Sam had handled all of the horrible things he had been put through. He was also relieved that his baby brother had no deeper wounds than the physical ones he had witnessed given to him. But even with these positives, it didn't escape him as to what kind of hell Sam had been forced to endure without him and just how many close calls his younger sibling had had…in all kinds of matters. _Oh, Sammy…thank God I called Odessa when I did… _Dean scrubbed a rough hand across his face, hoping to disguise the emotion he knew was spreading across it. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

"Dean…?" Sam stared up at his big brother with concerned eyes, reigning in his own emotional pain that had surfaced during his recollections of the days spent apart from his best friend, his protector, his _everything_. "You okay?"

Dean looked back down at his little brother, wanting to put those horrible days spent apart from_ his_ best friend, his reason, his _everything_ behind them, once and for all. "Are _you_ okay, Sammy?"

Sam smiled softly, hazel orbs sparkling with affection. "Yeah…yeah, I'm good."

Dean returned the smile and gaze. "Cool…cool. But not as good as me." The smile only grew and that suspicious warmth resettled behind his eyes as the irresistible sound of Sam's contagious laughter reached his ears. _Yeah… _definitely_ all good over here._

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Captain Q-Tip."

"_Damn bandages_…"

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Heehee, good healthy brotherly bonding and banter, nothin' like it! LOL. Well, things are all cleared up now for everyone, Odessa and her clan are dead and in the rearview mirror, and now…(loud sniffle)…it's about time for this story to wrap up! Seriously, I was getting misty-eyed as I wrote this chapter; this story is my baby, it's been so good to me! _As have_, of course, all of YOU readers and reviewers! Seriously, I never expected the awesome response for this fic that I've gotten, especially since it was my first one, and it makes me so incredibly happy! You guys all ROCK! And so do you, LLS, my dear beta; words just can't describe how much I appreciate all your work! Well, (wipes eyes) the next chapter will conclude this tale…so I will see you all for the end. (runs for tissues)


	28. Chapter 28

DISCLAIMER: Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and nope, no _Supernatural_/Winchester boys-ownership for me to be thankful for. But I sure am thankful for the show and the boys, nonetheless, and for the incredible talents of Eric Kripke, Jared and Jensen, and the rest of the awesome cast/crew for bringing it all to us. Happy Thanksgiving, hope everyone had a great one!

SPOILERS: Anything from _Hollywood Babylon_ and back, and also a couple of things from _Folsom Prison Blues_ for this final chapter.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**My Strongest Weakness**

PREVIOUSLY: _"Jerk."_

"_Bitch."_

"_Captain Q-Tip."_

"_Damn bandages…"_

**Chapter 28**

Four days after Dean had frantically rushed him through the emergency room doors, Sam 'Gaines' was officially discharged from the hospital, after being given a completely clean bill of health from Doctor Thomas, with the final examination overseen by Nurse Wilma, of course. Parting instructions and precautions for both Sam and Dean had been given and fond farewells were exchanged…for once, the elder Winchester had actually taken a liking to a hospital staff along with his ever-polite and always agreeable brother. And Dean had of course delighted in the fact that Sam was required to exit the hospital by wheelchair, but even more so in his ability to be the one to push Sam along. His bandages had been allowed to come off the day prior to Sam's discharge, and Dean had instantly engaged in the celebratory behavior of annoying his younger brother with the newly functional fingers – poking Sam all over and messing with his long locks until Wilma, much to Sam's relief, unexpectedly caught Dean in the act and threatened to put the bandages back on. The youngest Winchester's hair had remained untouched for the rest of that day.

Now, nearly an entire two states away from the hospital, safely riding inside the Impala in their usual positions, Dean decided it was retribution time. He reached out with a smirk and no warning...and ruffled.

"De-_ean_!" Sam groaned, smoothing down the now displaced chestnut strands. "What the hell, dude?"

"You had that one comin'," Dean grinned. "Now that Mrs. Flintstone isn't here to save ya."

Sam stared incredulously at his recently turned twenty-eight year-old brother. "What are you, like, _five_?" Dean only laughed, and Sam couldn't stop himself from joining in the laughter seconds later.

Hours later and about forty miles into Indiana, Sam fell asleep for the first time since his last night in the hospital, long legs slightly curled and head resting against the window. Dean looked on the sight in relief and satisfaction. His baby was now complete again…because his baby brother was riding in the seat beside him. "We got him back, ol' girl," Dean whispered with a gentle pat to the Impala's dashboard. "_We got him back_…" Quietly as he could, Dean picked up his cell phone and dialed a number he now knew by heart. "Where are ya, old man?"

_"Eh, dunno…prob'ly 'bout two or three cars behind ya…an' you can blame the old truck for that, not the old man!"_

"Uh-huh, don't wanna hear it, dude," Dean answered Dusty with a smile. "My baby here is forty years old and ya don't hear _her_ complainin'!"

_"Yeah, sure…so did ya ring me for a reason 'sides gettin' on me n' my vehicle's case?"_

Dean shot a brief glance over to his younger brother again. "Yeah…Sammy fell asleep, and not only does the Sasquatch look like he could use a more comfortable bed, but I'm getting a little road-weary myself. Thinkin' we could use a motel right about now."

_"Sounds good…meet'cha at the first one we come across. Over n' out."_

That motel turned out to be a Super 8, much to Sam's relief. It was a decidedly nicer place to stay than the ones Dean usually dragged him into. Dusty ended up procuring a room a few doors down from theirs, and all three men slept peacefully until around 9:00 AM when the eldest hunter woke his younger companions to tell them he had some unfinished business to take care of and to meet them at Elaine's Eatery around 1:30 in the afternoon. Sam had no idea what Dusty's unfinished business was, but Dean, remembering the diner and what institution was located a short drive away, had a pretty good idea.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Gordon Walker?"

The jailed hunter raised his head upon hearing the guard call his name and shot him a withering glance, causing the younger man to shift nervously upon the balls of his feet. A new recruit, obviously.

"You, uh, have a visitor."

Gordon's interest immediately peaked and he let the jittery guard escort him to the appropriate room. His last visitor had been none other than Dean Winchester, freaking out over the loss of his beloved baby brother and threatening to tear Gordon to pieces when he confessed how he had given the location of the only object that could save Sam Winchester's life to another rational hunter. He smiled at the fond memory. The smile grew even larger as he saw that it was said newfound partner in crime on the other side of the glass. He picked up the phone. "Well, well…if it isn't Ben Williams."

Dusty grinned, readily stepping back into the role of the unsavory hunter's accomplice that he had expertly played nearly a week ago. "That's me."

Gordon nodded. "So…why back so soon? You wouldn't happen have to any news to give me, would ya? Say, I don't know…maybe somethin' concerning some boy in his early twenties, about six-foot-four, long brown hair…tragically found mutilated with no explanation?" he queried with a smirk. "Goes by the name of 'Sam Winchester', freaky psychic powers…fool of an older brother?"

"Maybe…maybe not."

"Come on, old man…spill," Gordon demanded. "'Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not the most forbearing of men... Did you find that spear, or not?"

"We found it, alright…an' just in the nick'a time, too."

The imprisoned man's dark eyes narrowed. "Who's '_we_'…and 'in the nick of time' for _what_?"

"Why, Dean Winchester an' myself, of course…an' just in the nick'a time to save Sam, naturally. Ya see, I gotta tell _you_, Gordy, I'm not the most for_giving_ of men…'least not when someone purposely does me wrong like you done."

"Who the hell are you?"

"A friend," Dusty replied casually in an intended direct repeat of the last time Gordon had asked him that question before adding, "A _friend_ of the Winchester brothers…a _foe_ to you!" He tapped his chin in mock-thought after fixing Gordon with a knowing glare. "Or wait…what was that you called me last time we talked…? Oh yeah, I remember now… '_Some ol' nothin' of a former hunter'_ at your service here, you lousy thievin' piss-poor excuse for a man!"

"You…" Gordon finally got out, masking his defeat and anger under a vacant stare and voice tone. "You owned the other spear before I—"

"Stole it?" Dusty finished emphatically. "Well...give that bastard a prize, he finally figured it out! Let's see…I think 'life in prison' oughta be a suitable 'nough reward. Though with all the shit that you put those Winchester boys through, all that brain-dead crock you believe about Sam, who, by the way, has more good in him that you could ever hope to have even if the Good Lord _Himself_ sneezed in your face…I'd give ya _several_ lifetimes in prison." Dusty smirked, knowing that somewhere inside that stoic countenance, Gordon was cursing enough to make a sailor blush. "Well, Gordy, love'ta stay n' chat, but I've got two other infinitely _higher_ life-forms awaitin' my company. Just wanted to let ya know that Sam Winchester an' his brother are just fine, the humanoid familiars are now totally extinct, and _you_, my bad fella, don't get a _smidgen_ of the glory for makin' 'em that way. S'what ya were goin' for when ya stole my spear, right?"

"You could say that," the addressed man replied in a falsely collected manner.

"Well, so glad it all worked out for ya the way it did," Dusty laughed, standing up to leave. "So long, Walker…an' if ya ask me, it'll never be long enough."

"The feeling's mutual," Gordon ground out through clenched teeth, composure rapidly waning.

"Good to know," the older hunter grinned before taking his parting shot and sealing his victory. "Who's 'past his prime' now?" Dusty didn't wait for a response as he hung up the phone and exited the chamber, smiling to himself the whole way out to his truck.

Minutes later, he pulled into the lot of Elaine's Eatery and parked beside a familiar black 1967 Chevy Impala, the owner of which was waiting inside along with his younger brother. "Score's all settled boys…let's hit the road."

Dean grinned. "Oh man, Dusty…you are _so_ tellin' Sammy and me about this one later." And the old hunter did, much to the brothers' amusement and delight.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Three days, two more motels, and eight hours later found the Winchester brothers back to the old auto salvage yard in South Dakota that had become their second home…after the Impala, of course. The sun was low but the spirits were high, as evidenced by the mirth erupting from the small circle of hunters that sat in four crude lawn chairs, cold beers in hand, enjoying the pleasant evening and each other's company…not to mention a few embarrassing stories, all at one hunter in particular's expense.

"Ha! You're damn serious?" Dusty Bennett guffawed, looking from Dean to the man that sat across from him for confirmation of what he'd just said. "He threw _pepper_ on an angry spirit?!"

"Yeah, sure did," Bobby Singer replied with a grin and a slap to Dean's back. "And get this…after he did it, he naturally got a sneezin' fit to beat the devil!"

More chortles exploded from the two older hunters and his brother, causing Dean to groan. "Aw, come on, Bobby! First off, I was eleven freakin' years old…second off, the salt and pepper shakers in that lady's kitchen weren't labeled _or_ see-through." The amusement didn't die down upon Dean's surprisingly valid excuse, and though he was pretending to be annoyed and offended, he was glad of that fact. Hearing that uncontainable, high-pitched, distinctive Sammy-laughter overtaking the quiet evening was worth any good-natured jibe that could be thrown at him and _then _some. _Still… What goes around, and all… _A mischievous smile crossed his face. "Besides, it's not like I believed pepper would actually work! Ya know…like when_ Sammy_ here was in first grade and saw me with some 7-Up I'd snuck in one day at lunch…"

"Dean…"

"And he asked if I could get him some too, so I did…"

"_Dean_…"

"So later, Sammy's teacher stops me in the halls asking what in the world would possess my little bro to shout the word 'Christo' and then throw clear soda pop on him…"

"Dean!"

"And little did the man know he'd said the magic word!"

"Sam thought his teacher was _possessed_?" Bobby asked amusedly.

"Yep. Thought it was the only explanation for why he'd take recess away from the whole class, when the real reason was 'cause half of them didn't do their homework! And…he thought that 7-Up was holy water…'cause it fizzed!"

"Aw, man…" Sam muttered, burying his face in his hands to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks as the other three men laughed.

By the time the hilarity had dissipated, all of the hunters had been under the humiliating spotlight except for Dusty, who wisely kept his own embarrassing tales to himself. The oldest hunter now found himself under a spotlight of a more general nature instead.

"So ya got into the huntin' life when you were a twenty-somethin', ya say?" Bobby queried.

"Yep. Was always more of a down-in-the-sticks country boy than a city guy, if ya couldn't already tell that by my lazy speech," Dusty quipped with a smile. "But anyway, moved into a cabin down in Arkansas, s'where I still live now, actually. S'right by what I first thought was a nice, peaceful patch'a woods…'til I learned they were home to this damn thing called a Wendigo…ever heard of 'em?" He continued when all three of the other hunters nodded emphatically...almost _too_ emphatically. "Yeah…well, I learned all 'bout the things an' a whole lotta other stuff from two guys that came 'round to hunt the thing. Didn't believe 'em at first when they told me what it was an' then I saw the thing with my own two eyes…'fore I knew it, I was goin' on the hunt with 'em an' helped 'em kill it. At first I done it all just to defend my home…but later on…I _kept_ doin' it 'cause it just felt right somehow, ya know? I dunno, like a…uh…"

"Calling?" Bobby finished accurately.

"Yeah…exactly like that."

"Know where you're comin' from," Bobby smiled. "S'almost like once ya go on your first hunt, it's in your blood. Though in my older age I've gotten to be more of a research man, myself…not that I _don't_ take the occasional job excursion or two, but still…"

Dusty readily agreed. "Took the words right outta my mouth, Bobby."

"That so?"

"Yep…love to hit them books."

"Well, then, have I got somethin' to show you!" Bobby exclaimed, standing up from his chair and motioning for the eldest hunter to follow him into the house before turning to give Sam and Dean a parting message. "Boys, I'm gonna show Dusty here the library, so I'm appointin' you two to the cleanup."

"Aw, man!" Dean exclaimed. "What's wrong with a few beer bottles and plates of food left out in…" He trailed off at the glare Bobby shot his way. "Right…fine. Winchester Maid Service reporting for duty!" he finished with a mock salute.

"Keep snarkin' off like that, boy, and I'll have you an apron to wear before too long!"

Sam snickered as Dean shuddered at the thought just before the slamming of the door silenced his would-be retort. "Jeez…talk about bein' left out in the cold…feelin' a little excluded here, how 'bout you?" the older sibling smirked.

"Yeah, right…like you want any part of a library session." Sam responded with a knowing smile, followed by a contented sigh. "Huh. Glad we introduced those two, ya know? It's like they're old friends."

"Emphasis on 'old'," Dean said with a wink, eliciting a smack on the arm from Sam.

"Watch it…we'll just have to see if_ you're_ still hunting like those two when you're past fifty, won't we?" Sam grinned.

"Ha ha," was all Dean could muster for a comeback. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure if he'd live to see fifty. He could only take it one day at a time – protecting his baby brother, hunting evil, doing what he does best – and hope.

A pensive silence stretched between the brothers before the youngest one finally broke it. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something…ever since I woke up in the hospital, but I keep forgetting…when I'm not putting it off, I guess. It's something that the familiars told me…kinda been botherin' me a bit, you could say."

Dean sighed as he scooped an empty beer bottle off the ground. They had already had their share of serious conversation earlier in the day when he, his brother, and Dusty had told Bobby the full story of what had happened when the Winchesters met Odessa and crew. Dean really didn't want to get back on that track. _But…if it's bothering him…damn it. _"Fire away, little bro."

Sam unsurely began. "Well…Odessa and Dracon kept mentioning that there was this hunt you went on recently where you killed another humanoid familiar…Dracon's mate according to him and Odessa. So…why don't I remember that hunt?"

Dean swallowed thickly, daring to meet Sam's gaze. No accusation was held within the hazel orbs, just confusion and concern. It made the subterfuge even harder. "Well, I think you might've been away at college when it happened," the older man evaded. He still wasn't ready to confess.

"Nice try, Dean," Sam said, no heat in his voice but suspicion suddenly leaping into his eyes. "But the familiars said it happened _months_ ago…not years."

_Shit… _The jig was up, Dean realized, and took a deep breath, hoping Sam would understand…or at least forgive him. "Sammy…you know how much of a wreck I was after Dad…died." Sam nodded for him to go on, a flash of sympathy crossing his face at Dean's words. "Well, one night when we were staying here at Bobby's, I…I just needed somethin' to take my mind off it all, and…I went out on a hunt…at night…alone."

"Dean!" Sam noticed that his older brother didn't flinch at the outburst. He was obviously expecting it…_as he well should! _"You coulda gotten yourself killed, I mean, no plan…no backup?!"

"I know, I know, Sammy, and look, I'm sorry. Not sorry that I did it since I killed that other familiar, sheer luck or not…just…sorry that I shut you out of it all," Dean admitted softly, guiltily. "And that I waited so long to tell you. But…forgive and forget?"

Sam thought for a moment – what seemed like an eternity to Dean – and acquiesced. "I guess. Just…don't do it again, alright? Ever."

Dean grinned playfully. "Aw, Sammy. Come on, what kind of guy takes orders from their little brother?"

"The _smart_ kind," Sam smirked.

Minutes later, the brothers finished the task Bobby had appointed to them and went to join him and Dusty in the library. Once again, they felt like they were walking in on two longtime friends and smiled at the two older men as they joined in the conversation. They spent another half-hour down in the library – with even Dean getting in on some book learning – before turning in for the night.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_---Epilogue---_

Before everyone knew it – or was ready to accept it – three days had passed, and it was time for Dusty to head back home to Arkansas. He had already said his goodbyes to Bobby, who readily agreed to keep him updated on happenings in the hunting world, and Dusty hoped this would help him to succeed in being a bigger part of it in the years ahead than what he had been in the recent past. Now came the part that the old hunter had been dreading. It was time to say goodbye to Sam and Dean Winchester…to say goodbye to the two incredible young men who had earned a permanent place in his heart. Slamming the tailgate of his truck shut, his things packed securely in the bed, he turned to the brothers.

Both looked to him at the same time, and Dusty's stoic exterior was efficiently crumbled upon seeing what looked like moisture in Sam's eyes. He scuffed his boot on the ground, looking down at it before finally looking back up at his young friends again. "Aw…hell, boys…I'm no good at this…" came the reluctant beginning. "Cliché as it sounds an' all…I really don't know what to say."

"Say you'll keep in touch with us?" Sam spoke up immediately with a heartfelt gaze.

"'Course I will, kid. Ya'll got my number an' I've got yours. Call anytime ya want…just preferably not past midnight, if ya don't mind. Old man, here, ya know," Dusty winked.

"Same goes here," Dean replied. "Except for the 'old man, here' part."

All three shared a brief laugh over Dean's quip before Sam returned the conversation into sincere territory. "Listen, Dusty…I know we've said this before, but…thank you so much, for all you've done for us. I mean, you didn't have to do anything, but…you did, and we just…we're just really lucky to have ran into someone like you—"

"Literally, in my case," Dean interrupted with a smirk, eliciting another laugh from the older man before Sam continued.

"Anyway, just…thanks. For everything."

"Shucks, Sam…you're very welcome for it all, you know that…but I'm the one that should be thankin' you n' your brother."

"For what?"

"For everything, kid. Ya'll took a weary, washed-up old man an' turned 'im back into a hunter, gave me a purpose…helped me rediscover my callin'. I feel like I'm really livin' again, thanks to you two…sixty-five years old or not," he finished with a warm smile.

"Sixty-five?" Dean questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah…why?"

"Nothin'," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Just thought you were in your _early_ sixties, actually."

"Why, Dean, son," Dusty exclaimed with a wide grin, "that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Another round of laughs could be heard echoing through the salvage yard before the oldest of the three men realized if he put off leaving any longer, he might never be able to go. Secure in the knowledge that their goodbyes wouldn't be forever, he took a deep breath to finally bid them. "Well…I best be gettin' outta here an' back on the road." He met the youngest Winchester's eye first. "Sam…I'd ask ya to do this old man a favor an' stay far away from any humanoid familiars, but…guess we don't have to worry 'bout that no more, huh?" he chuckled. "So…just 'stay outta car trunks' is gonna have to do it instead."

"Yeah…" Sam choked out. "I will…hopefully."

"Do your best, kid," Dusty winked, extending his hand for Sam to shake. Upon Sam's doing so, he rethought. _Aw, what the hell… _Pulling the youngest hunter into a tight hug, which he gladly returned, Dusty gave Sam two hearty pats on the back before letting him go. "Be good, kid," he said softly, voice breaking no matter how steady he had tried to hold it.

He then turned to Dean. Unlike Sam's, there were no tears in the older Winchester's eyes, but the emotion was there just the same. He could see it clearly. "And you…damn, Dean, I'd tell ya to be good like I did your little bro, but ya know what? I jus' don't think you can manage," he said teasingly.

"Aw, what're you talkin' about…I'm somethin' else," Dean smirked.

"No argument there, son!" Dusty laughed, and then quieted the amusement in his voice. "_No argument there_…" He reluctantly curled his fingers around his truck's door handle. "Like I said, Dean, you've got my number…anytime, alright?" Dean nodded in response. "Good. You take care of that brother of yours, now, ya hear?"

"Loud and clear, Dusty," Dean responded with a bright smile.

"Good man." The squeak of the old hunter's truck door opening reverberated off the scrap metal surrounding the trio of men, as Dusty then stuck his hand out and pulled Dean into an unexpected hug as well when he grabbed it. "Remember, son, you find your strength—"

"And hang onto it…hang onto Sammy." _Always._

"You got it." With that, Dusty let go of Dean and climbed into the driver's seat of his truck, which also squeaked loudly. "Old bucket'a rust," he muttered with a smirk at the boys as he started the engine. "Well…I s'pose I'm off." He caught the boys gazes one final time. "Talk to you two soon…right?"

"Count on it," they said in unison.

Dusty laughed and shook his head fondly as he put his foot to the gas and started pulling out of the salvage yard. "Brothers…" he said to himself. "Gotta love 'em." He finally let the moisture come to his eyes as he watched the Winchester boys growing smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror, waving one last goodbye…for now, anyways. _Yep… Gotta love 'em._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Almost two weeks later found Sam and Dean pulling out of Bobby Singer's salvage yard as well. They had another case to get to…involving a haunted prison, no less. Sam was still extremely wary of the job, and in practical disbelief of Dean's frighteningly risky idea of purposely getting arrested to get into the job site. But Dean had insisted that they needed to help the prison's owner, who it turned out was an old friend of John's, and Sam had finally given in. Besides…the job just happened to be in the state of Arkansas. The boys, of course, had a good friend there.

"So, think the old man's expecting us to drop by so soon?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Probably not…" Sam responded. "But I can't help but think he'll be happy to see us anyway," he finished with a knowing smile.

"Yeah…same here. So, man, this job…"

"Don't remind me."

"Aw, come on, Sammy, it'll be fine. S'just gonna be a little weirder for me than you, of course."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, just me…purposely walking into a prison…again. Man. I'm tellin' ya, freakin' Dijon vu."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"For the last time, man…it's_ déjà_ vu."

-o-o-o-o-o- THE END -o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Wow. So that's all she wrote folks – _literally_ – and I really don't know how to feel right now. Naturally, a part of me is sad; I've enjoyed writing this story so much and will miss it…I definitely teared up a couple of times writing this chapter. Yet, of course, the other part of me is somewhat relieved and very satisfied/happy. I remember when this 28- chapter tale was nothing but a title and a concept, and to see what it turned into and how well the result was received has been immensely fulfilling.

But that last part is all thanks to YOU, my readers. I seriously did NOT imagine when I posted the first chapter that this story would be almost 400 reviews strong by the time I posted the last one, and I just want to sincerely thank you all so much for your support. You guys made it all worthwhile! And a very special thanks to **psiChic** for being such an awesome beta…with my every-other-day posting, it was certainly a full-time job, but she came through every time and helped make this story into what it is. Thank you so much, LLS…couldn't have done it without ya! LOL, kinda the most appropriate holiday to end a story on with all the above sentiments in mind, huh? Heehee.

Well, LOL, didn't mean to make that sound like an Oscar speech…guess it's just a 'first-fanfic-has-done-well' thing, heehee! And with that fact, it definitely won't be my last fanfic…I'll probably be brainstorming away as you read this, LOL. But it's been a blast with this story, folks, and until my next one, take care everyone! Hugs, love, and thanks again. :-D

-PsychicWonderKitty


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